


Impasse

by ScarletRaven1001



Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: AU, All Human, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Continued oneshot, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Lemon, Romance, Smut, Vegebul, bonusday8bassethound, dragon ball smut, february 2018 smutfest, no saiyan powers, spring 2018 smutfest, tpthvegebulsmutfest, vegebul smut is the best smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-04 06:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 53,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14014083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: Bulma knew that having such wanton desires for her irresistible boss was wrong on all possible accounts, but even though she tried so hard to, she just couldn’t resist him… Not when his body against hers felt oh, so right.❤️ Proud nominee for The Prince and the Heiress Annual Awards, 2018 ❤️





	1. Impasse

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The following story is fan-made. All characters within, and the entire Dragon Ball series, are not mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally a oneshot AU.  
> Chapter 1 is for the Spring 2018 TPTH Vegebul Smutfest, Day 8: Basset Hound.

 

 

 

The sharp clicking of her heels against the dark marble floors echoed across the now deserted hallway. Her green clipboard was clutched securely against her chest by her left arm, her right hand absently twirling a pen between her slender fingers.

Only a few minutes left until midnight, and everyone else, save for the handful of security personnel, had left the building.

The larger areas lined with small offices and long lines of office desks were far behind her as she moved into the narrow hallway leading into the executive office.

Her wire-rimmed glasses felt heavy as it stubbornly slid down her nose, and she lifted a hand to push it up to be level with her pale blue eyes, her pupils dilating as they adjusted to the darkness that grew deeper the farther she moved into the narrow hall.

She fidgeted with the edges of her light gray blazer, and she tucked her pen into her coat pocket to smooth down her black inner blouse. She paused in her steps to finger the bottom of her tight skirt, self-consciously pulling at it to make it appear as long as possible even though she knew that the short skirt ended a couple of inches above her knees.

She was stalling. She knew she was.

Just as much as she knew that _he_ knew, as well.

She felt her heart begin to pound against her rib cage as the dark door to the CEO’s office loomed before her. She took a deep breath, pushing a stray lock of her straight, blue, shoulder-length hair behind her ear, before lifting a hand to announce her arrival.

She pressed a button on the side of the small, electronic door lock, turning on the intercom and sending an alert to the person waiting for her within. “Ouji-san?” she called softly into the small microphone.

The small machine beeped, the red indicator turning green as the door opened slightly to let her in.

She pushed the door open, stepping into the large office surrounded by floor to ceiling windows. The lights from outside buildings blinked merrily up at her, the only source of illumination in the otherwise pitch-dark office.

She stood still as she heard the door swing closed, the soft beeping sound letting her know that the door had locked behind her again. Looking around, she noted the long, dark tan couch and small mahogany table sitting on the right side of the office, the display case of trophies and awards to the left, and finally set her eyes onto the large wooden desk at the far end of the room. Steeling herself, she walked up to the desk, approaching the imposing figure seated on the leather chair behind it.

He sat hunched over, his face hidden by the dark shadows of the office. His fingers were steepled together, hands supporting his chin as he leaned on the table. He seemed relaxed in his stance, almost careless, but she could tell by how his shoulders tensed slightly as she approached that she was not the only one feeling the effects of the darkness between them.

The blue, long-sleeved shirt he was wearing stretched deliciously across his chest, a black tie wrapped loosely around his collar. She could clearly discern the outline of his defined arm muscles pushing rebelliously against the sleeves, which he had folded up to rest just below his elbows.  She noted that his black coat was hung onto the coat rack behind the door, the red emblem of _Ouji Enterprises_ stitched meticulously onto the breast pocket.

His head was angled down, his narrow glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as his eyes watched her approach him from above the rims of his specs. His dark lashes mesmerized her, his thick brows scrunched together as he regarded her with an unreadable look on his handsome face.

His dark hair was a riot of flames on his head, and she faltered in her steps as she remembered that those deceivingly sharp-looking tresses had felt as soft as the finest silk between her fingers. His prominent widow’s peak slashed down, leading her eyes to the attractive, masculine facial features she had all but memorized since she had begun working for him six months ago.

She stood unmoving before the large table as reached him, her eyes meeting the obsidian orbs of the man who watched her every motion like a predator poised to attack its chosen prey.

Her voice lodged into her throat as she attempted to speak, but her hesitation was not missed by the eager spectator. A corner of his lips lifted in a smirk, breaking the deafening silence between them.

“Bulma,” the soft sound of her name left those lips in a husky whisper, and it was only then that she realized, with a sharp jolt, that she had been staring at him as if in a trance from the moment she walked in.

“Ouji-san,” she began, “I have emailed you the charts that you need for tomorrow’s board meeting. I have the printouts ready as well.”

“Ouji-san?” he asked with a raised brow, and she watched, mesmerized, as he slowly, sinuously stood from his relaxed slouch on his leather chair. He leaned towards her, large hands bracing himself on the desk as he regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Why Bulma, _must_ you be so formal?”

She gulped, his soft voice inciting a myriad of lascivious memories within her, her heart racing as she remembered how that voice and his hot breath against her neck had sent delighted shivers down her spine.

Her gaze traveled up to meet his, but she hesitated at the last moment, choosing to fix her eyes on the frames of his glasses that had been sliding down his patrician nose. The glasses, she knew, were an act. He had perfect vision, but the glasses, to most, denoted experience, knowledge, power… this man commanded respect.

She fought against her body’s response to his nearness, straightening her back as she replied as stiffly as she possibly could. “I only dropped by to inform you of the status of the report, _Ouji-san,”_ she emphasized.

She took her eyes off him as she peered down into the contents of her clipboard, pulling out the sheets with the printed charts and statistics.

With a flourish, she held the papers out towards him, very nearly hitting him with them in her increasingly flustered state.

“See here,” she motioned to the first page, setting her clipboard down onto the table so she could point at the charts as  she explained, pretending not to notice that the man she was talking to was completely ignoring her work in favor of blatantly watching her. “This first chart indicates the attrition rates of the sales department, as well as the reasons cited for the resignations.”

She dared a peek up at him, and she saw that he had basically zoned out, his gaze fixed on her lips as she continued speaking. “The majority of our staff members are satisfied with their work environments, so the number is basically negligible. The only cause for concern is the departure of Tien, who was the second highest seller in the third quarter. Now here, we-”

“Enough!” his palm smacking against the tabletop, and the forceful tone of his voice stunned her into silence as she looked up at him in alarm, the papers falling from her slack grip.

“Enough, woman,” he rasped, eyes boring into her as his dark gaze commanded that she meet his own. “This has gone on long enough. Why do you insist on tormenting me?”

“Tormenting _you?_ ” she asked, disbelief making heat rise to her cheeks. She fisted her hands, planting them on her hips as she stood to her full height, glaring at him as menacingly as her small frame would allow. “I only came here to give you the reports! You are the one who keeps making this so difficult!”

“I am not the one who is hot one moment and arctic the next,” he seethed, one hand moving up to violently pull his glasses off, throwing it carelessly to land on the paperwork on his desk. Moving quickly from behind the desk to stand directly before her, his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his eyes blazing as he regarded her. “I have told you, under no uncertain terms, that I want you. I have _shown_ you that I want you. But you have yet to give me a straight answer.”

She bit her lip in indecision.

When Bulma had applied for this job, she was supposed to have been hired as the secretary of the owner of the company. The man was old enough to be her father and, though imposing, had been kind enough that Bulma had immediately accepted the offer.

However, two short days before Bulma was supposed to start work, the older man had suddenly decided to leave the company and hand the reigns over to his eldest son.

The said eldest son had become her boss instead. What started out as a simple job became a battle of wills when the attraction they immediately felt for each other upon meeting quickly became unbearable, undeniable…

And now, said boss was hovering over her, his slanted eyes betraying his anger and a more pained emotion that she could not quite put her finger on.

“Please… please, Ouji-san,” she whimpered, snapping her eyes shut to keep from seeing the chaotic passion in his, and to keep him from reading the raw emotions in her own.

“Say my name, Bulma,” he dared her, and she felt his fingers quickly, but gently grab her chin, forcing her to crane her neck slightly to look up at him.

He was not much taller than her, but his presence was like a storm, strong, volatile, and if left untamed, capable of utter destruction.

She was unable to fight him, and she lifted somber eyes up to regard him, her lips trembling with the confusion she could still feel deep in her core.

“Vegeta, please,” she finally whispered. His eyes were on her, watching every harsh breath that escaped her as she breathed painfully in her anguish. “We can’t. This isn’t right.”

“Don’t you dare say that it isn’t right, woman,” he growled. His sharp eyes softened marginally as he continued, “Because it feels right. You know it does.”

“I…” she stuttered, but he raised two fingers to her mouth then, softly laying them on her lips to halt her words.

“It felt right, when you surrendered to me after the office party,” he leaned closer, letting his harsh breath fan across her cheeks as he reminded her of the first time she gave in to him, the first time he possessed her body with an unholy passion that still burned her from head to toe.

She gasped as she felt the fingers of his other hand clutch her sides, slowly soothing the stress from her rigid stance before him.

She could feel herself begin to melt against him, and try as she might, Bulma could not stop her body from craving the hard planes of his own.

“It felt right last night,” he added, and a small sob left her as she felt him begin to wrap his arm around her, pulling her in ever closer, and she remained powerless to resist.

“It only feels wrong when you fight it, Bulma,” he said in a harsh whisper, his voice soft but urgent, insistent. “Because you _know_ … that you belong with me. _Only me.”_

She sucked in a deep breath as he pulled back, a hand lifting to pull her glasses off her face, setting it down on top of her clipboard on his desk.

“Your body knows it,” he purred as the tips of his fingers stroked teasingly across her cheeks.

His hand traveled lower, slowly moving until his warm palm was resting on her chest, feeling the furious thudding of her heart against her rib cage. His lips lingered at her jawline, the feel of his breath on her skin raising goosebumps throughout her whole body as he continued speaking, “Your heart knows it.”

She felt herself falling into him, her hands itching to hold on to his powerful frame, seeking approval, reassurance, but her mind stubbornly refused to yield.

Bulma was a logical girl… she possessed an analytic mind that screamed at her how big of a mistake this was. She had something to prove, she needed to show her parents that she had it in her to succeed even without their family’s influence… that she could rise up in professional ranks in spite of, not because of, her physical beauty.

But… Vegeta was right. Her every sense, every beat of her heart, every drop of her blood, knew that she wanted this, wanted him.

As if he felt the acquiescence simmering within her, he seized the chance to crush her small body against his own, arms wrapping possessively around her as he dove down and his lips swiftly and vigorously captured hers in a deep, demanding kiss.

She lifted her hands to his chest, intending to push him away… but as she felt his warm strength against her palms, the walls she kept between her mind and her heart crumbled into dust, and she found her fingers curling into the material of his shirt as she moaned and kissed him back.

She closed her eyes against the feel of him around her, her fingers grasping wildly at him and moving up to hold him tighter to her. Her right hand wound around his neck as her left curled up under his arm, feeling his hard biceps flex beneath her touch as he tightened his hold on her.

Bulma parted her lips to let him in, and Vegeta quickly plundered her mouth, keeping control of the kiss as he tasted her, devoured her, dominating her with every deliberate glide of his tongue.

She heard him groan against her lips before he pressed himself against her, and she could feel him begin to harden through their clothes as he rubbed his pelvis teasingly against her. She moaned in kind, the sound breathless and needy as she clutched the nape of his neck with desperate urgency, all but lost to the sensations of his kiss, the hurried but gentle caress of his hands on her body.

Without breaking their kiss, his hands fell to her waist, grasping her sides tight before she felt him lift her, settling her down to sit on the edge of his desk.

She hummed in delight against his mouth, her hands dropping to his arms. She could feel his strength as his biceps flexed with his movements, and her fingers curled possessively around the taut muscles she could feel beneath the cloth of his shirt.

He stepped closer to her, his knees knocking softly against the wood of the table she was on, as his arms wound around her hips. His hands spread out, he greedily palmed her buttocks to drag her to the very edge of the table. He stood between her parted legs, pressing his growing arousal against her dampening core.

He finally broke the kiss, his lips feathering gently across her jaw, his teeth nipping teasingly while she could do nothing but hold on and sigh in pleasure at his touches.

Vegeta’s hands found hers, and he entwined their fingers, his much larger hands completely engulfing her own as he raised their clutching hands to rest against his chest.

She could feel his erratic heartbeat against the back of her hand, and she pulled away from him, her eyes seeking his amidst the darkness.

She gasped as their gazes met, and her heart basked in the need that she saw clearly written in his obsidian orbs… need that she knew he could also find in her cerulean eyes.

“Bulma,” he breathed softly, his breath fanning across her lips as he closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers.

He released her hands, and he opened his eyes to stare into her own as she felt him reach up and begin to pull her blazer down her shoulders.

She knew where this was leading to. She knew what he wanted… what would happen if she didn’t pull away.

His eyes blazed his question at her, and she knew that he would stop if she told him to stop. If she closed her eyes against his penetrating gaze and halted his hands from removing her clothes, he would step away from her and let her leave.

But she didn’t do any of those things. With a determined glint in her eyes, she straightened her arms and let him pull the offending garment off her.

He understood, and with renewed vigor, he pulled the blazer down, then carelessly discarded the garment at their feet.

She reached up to unknot his tie, then snaked it along his neck before dropping it to the floor as well.

Her fingers languidly traced up his sides before she reached for the buttons on his shirt. She determinedly watched her fingers slowly unbutton each one until she had his shirt open, then she gently pulled the material to untuck it from his pants.

The shirt hung listlessly around his body, and her mouth watered as she looked longingly at the beautiful body framed by the material. She noted how his breathing had quickened, deepened as she undressed him, and unable to avoid his gaze anymore, she looked up to meet his eyes once again.

The intensity of his stare took her breath away for a second before he pulled her close into another kiss. The kiss was deep, probing, with none of the urgency of the last one, but with even more of his feelings injected into every small motion, every stilted inhale.

Bulma closed her eyes as she groped for his shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders. The silk slid off his form like water, joining the growing pile of clothes at their feet.

She pulled away from the kiss then, her eyes selfishly raking in every dip and angle of his deliciously ripped torso. She saw his hands move towards her, holding the edges of her blouse, before he began pulling it up. She raised her hands as he pulled it over her head, and she now sat before him in her black bra and her short skirt that had hiked up her hips due to their frenzied actions.

She watched as he dropped her blouse and stared at her, his longing for her a tangible wave that he exuded from every pore of his body.

Bulma had to wonder what he saw when he looked at her that had him so mesmerized. It puzzled her, what a man with such a perfect face and a body that could make the gods themselves weep in envy, could possibly find so desirable in someone such as her.

Sure, she knew she was beautiful… but the way he looked at her made her feel like no other mortal could come close to her. He made her feel like the most immaculate being in the universe, and it excited and confused her all at the same time.

She wondered if what he saw in her was the same as what she saw in him.

To her, there was not a single flaw on him. His sharp eyes, straight nose and sensuous lips beckoned to her, and her desperate hands reached out to pull his amazing body to hers as he reached and grasped her to him as well.

To her surprise, he didn’t move to kiss her, nor to touch her anywhere else in an attempt to arouse her. Vegeta simply held on to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, taking deep, unsteady inhales as he let his lips gently graze her shoulders.

The intimacy of the moment brought tears to her eyes, tears she fiercely held back as she choked out his name.

“Vegeta,” she whispered, and she hummed as felt him shudder against her, his arms tightening around her in response. His hands spread wide across her back, and she felt as one hand smoothed up her skin to toy with the clasps of her bra.

She didn’t resist when he unclasped the garment, and she felt the straps loosely hang on to her shoulders before he snuck his hand up to pull her bra away. As it fluttered to the ground, she felt the hand on her back moved to wrap more tightly against her, pressing her to him once more, her breasts rubbing against his hard chest.

His other hand reached down to grasp her buttocks, lifting her off the table, and she automatically wrapped her long legs around his hips as he carried her up, making his way to the couch on one side of the office.

He lay her down on the plush cushions, and he moved to lean over her, his eyes roaming her as he reached for her skirt and began to tug it off.

She reached down to unzip it before he actually tore through her clothing, and she lifted her hips up as he dragged her skirt down her long legs.

She lay there in just her panties and her heels, which she absently kicked off her feet while she hungrily watched him begin to unbutton and push his black slacks off. He kicked his shoes off, impatiently pulling his socks from his feet as he let his pants drop all the way down to the floor.

His narrow hips, framed by that slashed indent between his torso and thighs, made her mouth positively water. His black silk boxers wrapped tight against his lower hips, concealing that part of him that now strained against the restricting cloth of his underwear.

He leaned over her, one hand bracing him above her as the other began to trace languid circles around her stomach. The soft touches made her ache, and she felt her hands itch to touch him, to hold him as dearly as he held her.

She lifted her hands, and very gently held his cheeks in her warms palms, smiling shyly at him with her kiss-swollen lips.

He didn’t smile back, but he did acquiesce to her silent request. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lowered his head, his lips locking with hers in another intense kiss.

She could feel him everywhere, enclosing her, the darkness of their surroundings adding to the thrill as the allure of the forbidden pierced straight through her mind to riot loudly within her chest.

He pulled away from her lips, and she sighed his name in delight as his lips travelled south, until she felt his hot breath on her breast.

His sinful lips descended, leaving fleeting kisses all over her chest, suckling on the skin of her soft mounds. His hand not supporting his weight over her reached up, the backs of his fingers softly caressing the sides of her breast before he turned his hand over so the center of his palm rubbed her nipple.

She gasped as he began a gentle massage, kneading her until her nipples pebbled under his touch.

She arched up when she felt his warm tongue lave her chest, climbing up the slope of her breast until the soft warmth licked demandingly on her aching tips.

“Vegeta,” she moaned, closing her eyes, a loud cry escaping her when his lips closed around her nipple and gave a strong suck. She pressed him tight against her chest, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, the smooth, familiar feel of them making another surge of desire crawl from the center of her chest to the tips of her toes.

He moved his attentions to her other breast, while his right hand moved sensuously down her body. He grabbed her left buttock, kneading the flesh almost aggressively while she lost her mind in a haze of pleasure, her leg lifting up to wrap around his waist, opening herself to him, ready and eager for his touch.

Taking that as his cue, Vegeta gripped her hips to his, grinding his erection on her core and she cried out, her restless hands pulling roughly at his hair. He pulled his lips away from her chest, leaning up to mouth at her shoulder before he kissed a trail down her torso, his tongue dipping into her navel before teasingly nipping at the skin on her lower abdomen.

Bulma groaned loud as the tips of his fingers moved to play around the edges of her underwear, hovering around her netherlips, his nails scratching lightly at the smooth skin of her inner thighs.

She scrambled to touch him, her hands finding purchase on the smooth skin of his back as he stretched her panties to one side, revealing her to him.

A dark red flush came over her cheeks, reaching her upper chest as she nearly sat up when she felt his fingers begin to trace her labia.

“Vegeta!” she cried out his name, her voice hoarse with her desire. It felt so good to let those syllables slip from her lips, the sound of his name an affirmation of the identity of the only man who had ever made her crumble so thoroughly with just the stroke of his hands.

He glanced up at her, a smirk grazing his lips, and the naughty glint in his eyes distracted her enough that she violently started when he suddenly slipped a finger into her.

She threw her head back, her neck bobbing as a delighted cry lodged in her throat. She keened when she felt his finger delve more deeply into her, and her breathing all but stopped when she felt him add another finger, pumping slowly within her core.

“Does this feel good, Bulma?” he asked, his voice low and breathy as his eyes raked up her exposed body.

“Aaahh! Yessss. Oh!” she tried to formulate a smarter response as she knew he was just egging her on, but she was so completely overwhelmed by bliss that she would have been unable to spell out her own name.

She cried out when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, her hands reaching to grasp his upper arms as the feeling of utter frustration filled her.

She looked down her body and found that he had pulled away from her, but all her protests died in her chest when she saw his hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pushing the soft article down to reveal his cock, hard and straining, veins bulging out and looking oh so beautifully tempting.

Her jaw went slack as unbelievable desire and need for his body roiled within her, desperate to feel that magnificent hardness inside her.

She reached down as well, impatiently shimmying out of her panties, pulling one leg out as the other one was still snug around his body, refusing to uncurl. She left it to hang around one knee, her free leg dropping to her side and off the couch so her foot was flat against the floor.

She preened as his narrowed eyes fixed intently on her body. He let his eyes travel from her flushed face, down to her heaving breasts, her flat abdomen, before finally resting on her exposed core.

Almost as if hypnotized, he dove down and with single-minded intensity, he wrapped his arms around her upper thighs, pulled her legs even wider apart, and with harried intent, set his mouth onto her core.

Bulma screamed, her body undulating wildly as he relentlessly licked and sucked at her center. His tongue entered her, mercilessly seeking to taste every single inch of her body.

One of her hands reached down to hold his hand on her thigh, while the other grabbed his hair once again, pulling at the dark strands as his lips on her core wrung the most delicious tremors from deep inside her body.

His teeth grazed her sensitive bud and her eyes clamped shut, fighting to keep her sanity in the midst of the undeniable euphoria. He suckled her most sensitive spot, torturing the fleshy bump while her wails grew louder and more desperate, echoing within the walls of his dark office.

Her head thrashed from side to side, delirium settling in her as the indescribable feelings mounted in her chest, her core thrumming in delight as Vegeta kept on pushing her towards the edge.

“Oh! Oh Ve- Ah! Vegeta!” she cried out, and finally, unable to hold on, her body bowed up, her core grinding against his mouth as he grasped her more forcefully, eating her out as she felt her release come over her, her climax gushing out of her, leaving her dripping with her excitement while Vegeta eagerly continued licking her, taking delight in the taste of her essence.

He kept on licking her and suckling on her, and finally Bulma was strung so tightly that the pleasure was nearly painful in its intensity.

“Vegeta! Please! No more!” she gasped out, her hands limply trying to pull him away from her by his hair.

With a last, long lick from her core to her clit, he rose up, a shit-eating grin stretching his lips while his eyes blazed with his own arousal.

She motioned to him with her hands, asking him without words to come nearer. When he did, she reached up, her arms wrapping tightly around him, pressing her breast to the hard planes of his chest as her tiny hands roamed the wideness of his back.

He took the hint, and he lifted her into his arms, cradling her to him, seating her down on his thighs as she trembled uncontrollably.

She could feel his erection, hot and hard against her belly. She knew he needed release too, but he just patiently held on to her as she stroked his torso, her hands tracing the hard muscles beneath his skin.

“Bulma,” he whispered, and she nuzzled his neck in response, taking a deep whiff of his delicious scent.

He smelled of virility, strength and power. His scent was the most amazing mix of everything Bulma had ever wanted in her life, and she could never get enough.

“Can you feel it, woman?” he asked, and the tenderness in his usually tough voice nearly made her collapse into tears.

“ _Yes, I feel it,_ ” she thought, but she stubbornly refused to say the words.

Saying the words would mean her unequivocal surrender. Something she was not ready to do.

Her mind warred heavily with her heart and her body, but again… Bulma was a logical woman. She valued her mind above all else.

Everything within her was in chaos because of this man.

Bulma’s very soul was at a painful impasse.

He crushed her tighter against him when she failed to answer, and the tears pooled in her eyes as she thought of how absolutely unfair she was being towards this man.

“I need you, Vegeta,” she choked out against his skin, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin as he listened to her speak, felt her lips move softly around the words. “Take me… please.”

With nearly inhuman ease, he lifted her up, placing her facedown on the couch. She felt his hands gently coaxing her body until her hips were lifted up, hands braced flat against the soft cushions as he had her on her knees before him.

He then moved so he was kneeling behind her, legs on either part of hers. He rested his hands on her hips, gently stroking the roundness of her bottom as he ground his hardness against her, making her feel his desire for her.

Bulma arched back, rubbing herself to him, mewling needily as she felt him hold himself with one hand, aligning his cock with her core, and begin to push in.

Their position made him feel so impossibly large inside her, as her closed legs tightened her passage to a maddening degree. She heard Vegeta groaning, the sound so harsh that it seemed more like a growl, as he pressed into her, bracing his hands on her hips until he was finally fully seated within her.

“Bulma,” he gasped as he remained motionless behind her, his hands just running up and down her back in delicate, reverent caresses.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes drinking in his powerful body looming over her as they stayed connected in the most intimate way. He was panting harshly, but his gaze on her remained soft as his eyes traveled the length of her upper body until his eyes met hers.

His eyes pierced her heart powerfully, leaving her a breathless mess when he slowly pulled out and swiftly pushed back in, thrusting languidly into her. She cannot look away from him, his dark orbs boring into her as his body pleasured her, fulfilled her, plunged so deeply into her that all coherent thought left her as she began to wail, blissfully unaware of the jumbled words flying from her lips.

Her hands clenched convulsively into the soft cushions beneath her, her breasts bouncing rhythmically with each hard thrust from her lover.

Overwhelmed by the sensations, Bulma squeezed her eyes closed, throwing her head back in a euphoric shout.

Vegeta leaned over her, and his hot chest on her back sent sizzles of excitement all throughout every inch of her skin. He wrapped an arm around her waist, clutching her tight as he thrust more urgently into her, his body within her evoking wicked thrills that had her sobbing deeply as his name spilled carelessly from between her clenched teeth.

His hand moved stealthily up her sides until he could cup one of her breasts, kneading the soft flesh as she continued to pant with their efforts.

“Ve... Ge… Ta!” she keened in time with his thrusts, her throat parched, sweat dripping down her temples as she leaned back against him, seeking to take in as much of his warmth as she could.

“Bulma,” he responded, his husky voice deepened even more by his insatiable desires.

He nipped at her shoulder, and she cried out, her arms beginning to fail as her body wound tighter and tighter, ready to spring free at any moment.

“Please… please!” she begged, but for what, she didn’t understand.

“Take all of me, woman,” he rasped as he drove harder into her, his hips faltering in their rhythm as he began to lose control.

“Oh! Vegeta! Yessss,” she moaned, her words ending in a needy hiss.

He bent slightly to the side, stretching as far as he could until he could nip at her jaw.

She turned her face to him, and the moment she did, his questing lips met hers, swallowing her cries in a frantic kiss.

She kissed him back eagerly, feeling that wonderful pinnacle of pleasure building up from within her.

She screamed into his mouth while his tongue robbed her of her very breath, seeking to take in and explore every tiny space of her mouth as he fucked her harder, faster, more urgently than he ever did before.

His hips pounded relentlessly into her as she tried with all her strength to meet his every thrust. Her limbs were seizing up, her body imploding with all the delectable sensations.

She reached up with one hand to grasp the edge of the couch to support her weight, while her other hand moved carefully to clutch at his hand around her waist, snaking her fingers in between his longer digits.

Vegeta’s fingers curled around hers as he pulled his mouth away from her kiss, and he gasped out his uneven breaths as his pumping hips carried them to the edge.

Their bodies writhed desperately, reaching, trying to grasp that point of no return.

“Say my name, Bulma. Say it again,” he rasped, a pleading tone ringing the edges of his words, and she could not have denied him if she tried.

“Vegetaaaa,” she whined, her word ending in a harsh gasp as she felt her release begin to take over her.

“Come for me, woman,” he whispered in her ear, a sharp nip to her earlobe punctuating his words.

“I’m so close!” Bulma said breathlessly, her voice nearly inaudible even to herself. “God, Vegeta, please!”

“Bulma,” he groaned as he gave her a particularly hard thrust that had her arching and convulsing in his arms.

She felt him pulling their entwined hands down until they rested low on her abdomen. His middle finger extended, suddenly flicking her clit as he kept pounding into her…

Bulma screamed, unabashedly throwing her head back, uncaring of anything beyond the two of them, together, as she exploded into a powerful orgasm, uncoiling from deep within her and making her entire body shake madly with ecstasy.

She felt Vegeta stiffen behind her, and she felt the warm gush of his release fill her, coating her insides as he came with a throaty shout, uttering broken syllables of her name in the midst of his garbled exclamations.

Her arms finally gave out, and she collapsed, catching herself on her elbows to keep her face from smashing into the thick cushions below.

Vegeta himself was incoherent, his breathing stunted and shallow as he tried to get his heart to calm down from the rapid rhythm that Bulma could feel from where he slumped bonelessly against her lower back.

It took them a while, but soon, he had recovered enough to move, and he pulled out of her, the action making her groan as she felt his warm cum sluicing down her upper thighs. He sluggishly gathered her into his arms, rearranging them on the couch as he lay down, holding her on top of him so her head was pillowed on his chest. She wound her arms around him as he cocooned her within his embrace.

They laid quietly, bare bodies shimmering with sweat, basking in the pleasure and overwhelming feelings of their coupling.

When they had caught their breaths, Bulma was the first to break the silence.

“I… I should go,” she whispered.

His arms simply tightened around her in response.

“Vegeta, I should really go. Somebody could come in and -”

“No,” he said softly, the begging lilt making her snap her head up to look at his face.

He was watching her, his eyes wide as he took in her own surprised expression.

“Stay,” he said again, fingers clutching her sides.

She looked up at him, her indecision warring within her now that the euphoria of her lust had left her, and her mind was clear once again.

“I can’t.”

“You _can,”_ he insisted, refusing to let her budge.

She turned her eyes away from him, unable to stand the pained look on his face.

“Vegeta… I…”

“Stay with me, Bulma.”

Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes once again, and not for the first time that night, her heart won the battle against her brain.

“Alright,” she sighed, and she felt his arms hold her more securely as she spoke. “Just for tonight.”

“Not if I can help it. I am serious, woman. I want you.”

“ _I need to hear more than that from you,_ ” she thought as she squeezed her eyes to hold in her tears.

And she realized then, with startling clarity, that the reason her mind kept screaming that this was wrong, was not because of propriety or her ambitions.

Her mind wanted to keep her from getting hurt. But her heart was already bleeding.

It was an impasse still, and she didn’t know of a way to break the stalemate.

8-8-8-8-8

TBC

8-8-8-8-8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was stumped by the Basset Hound prompt, so I originally gave up since I can’t write anything for it… then I saw this picture: https://tinyurl.com/y6vukk84
> 
> Vegeta in glasses… Boss and secretary… I was absolutely helpless. I had to do it. :D  
> Reference for the Basset Hound position here: http://sexpositions.club/positions/17.html
> 
> Feedback will be greatly appreciated!


	2. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …Their eyes met, and an inexplicable chill zipped rapidly up her spine as she stared directly into the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her directly, her heart stopping entirely and furiously restarting…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I decided to continue this story, thanks to your lovely encouragements. This chapter contains flashbacks that will explain Bulma’s motivations, and hints at the start of Bulma and Vegeta’s problematic relationship in Chapter 1. It is also my first non-smutty chapter since I began writing for the Vegebul fandom, so I would really love to hear your feedback on this chapter. Thanks, and I hope you like this!

Bulma shrugged her blazer on as she tiptoed her way to the door, holding her shoes in one hand. She pressed the button on the door lock, and she cringed as the heavy barrier clicked open with a beep that seemed ridiculously loud in the silent room. She opened the door a tiny fraction and squeezed her way out, afraid of it making further noise if she dared widen her path.

As she turned to pull the door closed, she glanced once more at the right side of the dark office, casting one last look at the sleeping man sprawled naked on the large couch.

She gazed fondly at Vegeta’s handsome face, innocently slack in sleep. His hair was mussed up, his piercing black eyes closed lightly as soft breaths hushed out between slightly parted lips.

She had draped his shirt over his hips while she dressed, in an effort to give him some modesty and a feeble guard against the chill of the room. His strong legs were partly concealed by the material, laying relaxed on the soft cushions.

She turned away, knowing that if she didn’t leave now, she never would.

She forced herself not to think about him, and what had just transpired between them _yet_ _again_ , even after she had sworn the previous night that _that_ was the last time she would ever succumb to him.

She mentally flogged herself at her weakness. Never before had anyone been able to worm their way into her consciousness as well as he had slithered right into the core of hers.

She could barely concentrate as she made her way out the building, running to the parking lot and rushing into her small car. It was two in the morning, and the drive back home was quiet, the roads clear as the whole city was now deeply in slumber.

The quiet road lulled Bulma into a sense of serenity, and her mind wandered, remembering how this whole fiasco came to be.

 

8-8 **_Flashback_** 8-8

 

 “Dad, I’m twenty one! I’m not ready to just go and take over a company! I just passed the board exams two weeks ago, for God’s sake,” Bulma seethed, hands planted on her hips as she glared in irritation at her parents.

They were all in the main sitting room, having called Bulma to discuss ‘the future of Capsule Corp’.

“Nonsense dear,” Dr. Briefs waved a hand at her, unconcerned, his dismissive attitude frustrating her to no end. “You started university at fifteen; Finance and Management graduate at eighteen, and a certified Mechanical Engineer at twenty one. Summa Cum Laude in both degrees. You topped the engineering board exams. What more could you need?”

“Don’t you think it’s just a smidge rash, handing the reigns of a multi-million dollar mechanical company over to your younger daughter, who may I remind you, had just become old enough to legally drink?”

“Might as well start early, though. We all know that the company operations will go to you,” her mother, Panchy, interjected, twirling a strand of her blond hair around her finger. “You inherited your father’s brains. Tights, clearly didn’t.”

“Your mother is right, Bulma,” her father agreed. “It’s not like you even had anything else that you want to do. You’ve been assisting R&D since you were twelve.”

“Actually,” Bulma said, taking a deep breath, and letting it out in a slow exhale. “I was thinking of going into corporate.”

“Oh Bulma, that’s ridiculous,” her mother said, a blasé smile on her face. “Whatever will you do outside of Capsule Corp?”

“A lot!” Bulma protested. She turned her gaze on her father, who was scratching at his blue-haired head at her outburst. Bulma looked very much like her mother, but her hair and eyes were definitely from her father.

She continued, “To be honest, I enjoyed my Management course. I want to try my hand at it.”

“Bulma dear-”

“Dad please!” she cried. “I spent my whole teens studying, acting older than I was supposed to, to meet your expectations. I wanna do something else, just a couple of years or so.”

“Honey, you can’t just irresponsibly go into some office like a common person because you feel like it,” her mother said again, leaning forward, eyes narrowed in irritation. “You are just being stubborn.”

“No, I am trying to do something I want, for once!” Bulma stood, hands balled into furious fists. “I don’t understand why you can’t get it. It’s not like I’m gonna abandon CC. I just want to do something different while I’m young.”

“Bulma,” her father said, voice slightly raised. “You have no work experience. You won’t get anywhere in corporate. You’ll probably be hired anyway on account of you being a Briefs, but you won’t get far.”

Fury, unlike anything she had ever felt before, welled up in her at her father’s words. “I’m sorry dad, but how dare you underestimate me like this. I have my own skills, and not just those that have to do with our machines.”

“You are being unreasonable, dear.”

“No, _you_ are being unreasonable! I am _twenty one_. I can’t handle a company. I just want-”

“You can’t just keep doing what you want, Bulma,” her mother butt in, and Bulma’s vision went red.

“I have _never_ done what I want. The only time I tried to do anything silly was when I was sixteen and I went out on that summer road trip,” she glared at her parents. “You let Tights do whatever she wants but I can’t even try to go into corporate?”

“Bulma that’s enough!” Panchy scolded. “You want to be like Tights? Have you forgotten what she did? Slept with her boss just to get that ridiculous space-travel novel of hers published. You want to do that too?”

Bulma sucked in a choked breath, utterly enraged. “If you think,” she spat, gritting her teeth so hard that she was afraid they might crack, “For even one second, that I have any plans to _fuck_ my way into success, then you seriously know nothing about me.”

Bulma turned from her parents then, mind made up.

Fuck her damn parents. She was _leaving._ She headed back into her room to collect some clothes into an overnight bag, reaching into the bottom of her cabinet to grab her passbook for her secret bank account.

She had been investing in some stocks since she was sixteen, and she had managed to stow a bit of money away for herself. This money was _hers,_ and it was all she was gonna take with her.

She didn’t need her parents… didn’t need their money and influence.

And she'd be damned a thousand lifetimes before she’d ever resort to using her feminine wiles to move up the corporate ladder.

As if she would _ever_ sleep with anyone just to gain favors...

She would need only her skills and her brains… and she had more than enough of those.

She’d make it big in corporate… She’d show them…

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

“And yet here I am, walking into my apartment in the wee hours of the morning, straight out of having sex with my boss. Gee Bulma, you really showed them, huh?” she muttered despondently to herself as she locked her parked car and began to walk into her apartment complex.

She nearly sighed in relief as she finally reached her flat. She went in, locked the door behind her, and with an exhausted sigh, leaned heavily across the wooden door and looked blearily about the room.

It was tiny. The whole flat was just about as big as the bedroom she grew up in back in her family’s house. The small sitting room greeted her immediately upon entrance, and the kitchen and small dining room were almost immediately behind that.

The small bathroom, just a shower and a toilet within, was beyond the kitchen, opposite the small bedroom that was only large enough for her bed, a cabinet and a narrow vanity with a small stool.

The place was absolutely nothing like what she was used to, but in the past 6 months, she had grown to love the miniscule place. It was her sanctuary.

She had never yet let anyone come in, and only one other person knew where she lived.

She walked tiredly to her bathroom, eager to take a shower. She felt so _dirty_ , in more ways than one, and needed to get clean, to wash herself off the memories of this day and night.

She undressed, discarding her clothing into the small bin placed beneath the tiny bathroom sink. Naked, she stepped into the shower, immediately turning it on full blast, uncaring of the temperature. She just _needed_ to get clean.

The cold splash of water against her skin reminded her of that cool morning when she had her interview at Ouji Enterprises.

 

8-8 **_Flashback_** 8-8

 

Bulma sat before him, an intimidating man with dark hair that stood regally on top of a severe face. He had small wrinkles along the sides of his eyes and the corners of his mouth, a beard framing his powerful jaw.

When she received the call to come in for an interview for Ouji Enterprises, the largest real estate developer in the country, she had been expecting to be interviewed as an administrative assistant. She had applied for one of their junior vacancies, her resume proudly displaying the name Bulma Blue. She figured that using her middle name on her resumes and cover letters would be enough, since the employers usually perused those before checking the attached graduation certificates which all bore her full name.

This way, _no one_ could say that she got by on account of being a Briefs.

But the terrifying man who greeted her in the interview room was no supervisor or simple manager.

The CEO, Vegeta Ouji-sama himself, sat before her, screening her for a vacancy as _his_ Executive Assistant.

The interview had been going fantastically, and Bulma had beamed as she answered all his questions with confident ease.

“So then,” Ouji-sama clarified after her last answer. “You did not use your full name in your applications, because you did not want your last name to attract attention before your skills and credentials did?”

“That is exactly right, Ouji-sama.”

“Do you have similar reasons behind why you opted not to put a photo on your papers?”

“A little sir,” she said with a small smile. “It is a known fact that several employers choose their applicants based on physical appearance. I am aware that I am an acceptably attractive woman. I did not want to get called in for an interview for the wrong reasons.”

The man scrunched his brows together, glancing down at her diplomas. “Your qualifications are phenomenal, young lady. I have had your certificates verified and they all checked out. Are you certain that you wish to work in such a simple post? Why?”

“I am positive, sir,” she began. She had prepared for this particular question, she knew it was coming. “I may have good academic credentials, but I have no practical work experience. I wish to start from the bottom, so that I can experience all corporate operations from the ground, up. If ever there would come a time when I would have to head my own company, then I would hopefully be better-equipped to handle any issues that arise since I would know the responsibilities across all levels.”

The CEO smirked. “I don’t want a polished, rehearsed answer, Bulma-san. I want the truth. Now, why do you really want to work as an assistant, when we both know that you could be heading up Capsule Corp as we speak?”

Bulma gulped. The truth?

She looked straight at the scary man, his sharp eyes keenly assessing her every breath and movement even as he casually sat across from her on the large chair behind his ornate desk.

If she lied, he would know.

She realized that there was no way out of this. Taking a deep breath, she answered.

“Because I want to see what I can do without all of the advantages I had at my disposal, sir. I want to make a name for myself, to be Bulma, and not just as one of the Briefs. I want to prove to myself that I have unique skills and interests that are apart from being a member of the family that established Capsule Corp.”

She paused, before she said, in a sure voice, “I do this for my pride in myself as a person, as an individual who does not need to have the world at her feet to excel.”

He grinned then, and the genuine excitement in his eyes took her aback. She was surprised at the degree of glee she could see in his expression, as if he had found something that he had been searching for after a very long time.

“Yes, yes. Pride in oneself is an important thing, Bulma-san,” he nodded sagely, and that happy glint never left his eyes as he kept speaking. “I see something in you, lass. You will be a good match…”

She blinked. “A good match for the company?”

He straightened then, his grin still firmly on his face. “Yes, of course. Now… how would you like to start next Monday?”

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

The cold water raised goosebumps all over her body as she rubbed vigorously at herself with her soap, furiously scrubbing her breasts, where she can still feel the echoes of Vegeta’s rough tongue laving on her nipples.

Her hands felt disjointed from herself, and she realized that with every touch while she bathed, she could feel _his_ large hands instead, could feel _his_ long fingers wiping her clean.

It was his hands she could feel at her stomach and hips, softly washing away the sweat from their escapade… it was his fingers she could feel delving into her core, flushing away their cum, removing the physical evidence of the pleasure they had indulged in together.

She _needed_ to get _clean_.

Tears started pooling in the sides of her eyes, but even in her privacy, she stubbornly refused to let them fall.

A sob rose in her chest as she kept washing herself, scrubbing so vigorously that she felt her nails begin to leave little welts on her skin.

She balefully began to understand that the only thing making her feel dirty was her own conflicted mind.

She finally shut off the water, dejectedly stepping out of the shower and reaching for her towel. She knew that even if she scrubbed herself raw, she would never be able to erase the doubts in her mind, the doubts that made nasty little fingers crawl across her skin.

Vegeta wasn’t the problem. His touch on her was not what made her feel dirty. It was not what made her shudder in self-disgust.

His hands on her soothed her, made her forget her hang ups, even for just a short while. Whenever he held her, he _cleansed_ her, and he was absolutely right when he said that them, together, had never felt wrong.

However, she refused to risk the heartache that awaited her should she let herself feel too much for a man who claimed that he wanted her, but clearly did not need her.

From the first time their eyes met, she knew there was something about him that she had never seen in anyone else before. There was something different, something enchantingly terrifying in the way he held her gaze.

She should have run away… but she didn’t.

 

8-8 **_Flashback_** 8-8

 

She reported to the office fifteen minutes before nine in the morning. It was her first day of work at her very first job, and Bulma was excited. She had been in touch with the Human Resources personnel almost continually over the past week as she completed all of her pre-employment requirements and medical exams, and now she was finally going to start working. She was told to report to the 17th floor, where the Recruitment Officer would be waiting to officially endorse her to her new boss.

What greeted her as she arrived at the 17th floor reception was not what she was expecting.

It was utter pandemonium, as the HR team were all running to and fro, printing various papers and furiously typing into their computers.

She looked around, hands tightening around the straps of the shoulder bag slung over her right arm, eyebrows raised as she tried to take in what she was seeing. Her eyes caught the familiar bald head of the HR Manager, and she raised a hand to wave at him, trying to catch his attention.

“Roshi Kame-san!” she called, and the disgruntled older man looked up, looking slightly shocked to see her there.

“Bulma-san,” he greeted, motioning for her to approach him. She followed him into his office, where he motioned for her to take a seat at the guest’s chair in front of his desk. She took a seat, placing her bag on her lap, while he took his place behind the table and began to speak. “Please do forgive me. It had completely slipped my mind that you would be reporting today. As you can probably tell, we are a little bit overwhelmed today.”

“It sure seems like it,” she smiled. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

“Well, certainly not bad, dear. But it was rather shocking and we need to finish all the paperwork immediately.”

She was just about to ask what happened, when a harassed-looking woman with blond hair pulled back behind a big red bow interrupted, her hands full of printouts and what looked like checks and billing requests.

“Roshi-san,” she began. “I finished all the payout computations but I’m still waiting on Accounting to confirm and to finalize the checks.”

“Good work, Launch,” the old man smiled at her, and the tension from the blond’s shoulders lessened. “Bulma-san, Launch is our Remunerations Officer. Launch, you’ve heard of Bulma-san, I am sure. Now, have you seen our Recruitment Officer? He needs to take her up to Ouji-san.”

“Raditz is too busy having a mental breakdown beside the copy machine,” she said with a smirk, then finally turned to Bulma. “Hey there. Welcome to Ouji. We’re not usually this animated but it’s been a hell of a morning.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” Bulma responded.

The blond kept talking. “I didn’t think you would even come today, what with Ouji-sama suddenly retiring.”

“Wait, what?” Bulma exclaimed, not expecting that news, at all. “But I was supposed to work with him!”

“That, I need to discuss with you, Bulma-san,” Roshi said, just as Launch shrugged and took her leave.

“Bulma-san,” he continued, clearing his throat, and Bulma noticed that he had slightly loosened his collar, an obvious nervous habit. “Ouji-sama suddenly announced his retirement last Friday evening. No explanations, no prior warnings. We all had no time to prepare, and we are all running around this morning because we need to finalize the immediately effective handover.”

“What…what’s gonna happen now? Am I still expected to start work?”

“Well, yes. Ouji-sama gave us explicit instructions to hand you over to his successor as _his_ assistant,” Roshi answered. “But of course, that is if you would be alright with that. You would still be the EA to the CEO, except it would be a different CEO.”

“Who is the new CEO?” Bulma asked, burning with curiosity about the reasons for the sudden retirement, as well as the identity of the man who could be her new boss.

“His name is Vegeta Ouji.”

“Huh?” she was _really_ confused now.

“Yes. He is the eldest son of Vegeta Ouji-sama.” Roshi clarified. Kind of.

“They have the same name? He’s not ‘junior’ or anything?”

“No. They are both Vegeta Ouji. To make it less confusing for us, we call the father Ouji-sama, and the son is Ouji-san,” he said with a laugh.

Bulma needed to know more about her new boss-to-be, so she pressed on. “What had he been doing before he was appointed today? I have never even heard of him before, and Ouji Enterprises is very high-profile.”

“That would be because Ouji-san is a very private person,” Roshi explained. “He has been working as our Chief Operating Officer for six years now, but he rarely ever comes out of the office to face the public. He is very smart, but extremely secluded. He was the one who had come up with Ouji’s policy reforms that made it easier to refinance the housing loans through bank financing, and made our projects accessible to a wider group of people.”

Bulma knew of those reforms. Ouji’s stocks had skyrocketed four years ago due to those changes.

Roshi looked almost proud as he continued. “He is rather young, too. Ouji-san is only twenty seven, but he has the professional maturity of a person twice his age.”

So he was smart, driven, and professional. Exactly what Bulma needed in a boss.

She was about to ask Roshi to take her right to him when he cleared his throat again. “I have to warn you though, Bulma-san. Ouji-san is very… intense. Some would say he is even stricter than his father. You would also be his very first assistant, as he had refused to work with every single applicant we presented to him before. He only agreed now because his father warned him that a CEO’s job is much harder than the one he had before.”

Bulma straightened. “I have no problems with people with problematic attitudes, Roshi-san. I wish to meet him. I assure you that I will inform you immediately if I do not feel comfortable with him.”

“Well then,” he said, raising a hand to wave at someone beyond the office.

A tall, good-looking young man jogged up to them, standing by the door as Bulma regarded him. He really was rather young, probably in his late teens. He had very messy hair and a rather inexpensive looking suit, and he flashed a wide, friendly smile at her before turning to Roshi.

“Yeah Roshi-san? You need me?” he asked casually.

“Goku,” Roshi said to him. “I would like you to meet Bulma-san. She is going to be Ouji-san’s new assistant. Bulma-san, Goku is our intern. Goku, I need you to take Bulma up to the EO, please.”

Goku’s eyes widened. “Seriously? I’ve rarely been allowed near the Executive Office.”

“Well, I was informed that our dear Raditz is facing a bit of a dilemma, so you can go and take her. How is he now, by the way?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Goku responded, a hand bashfully going up to scratch the back of his head. “You know how my big brother is. He panics, then deals.”

Bulma laughed a bit at the man’s frankness.

A few minutes and various handshakes later, Bulma found herself in the elevator, being escorted by Goku to the 20th floor.

“Don’t be afraid, Bulma,” he said to her, and she would have been taken aback by his familiarity, if not for the innocently friendly grin on his face. “He’s not _that_ scary. Everyone else is just terrified of him because his eyes are mean-looking, but he can be pretty nice.

“I wasn’t afraid,” she answered, a bit defensive.

“If you say so,” he answered, shrugging slightly.

She wasn’t. She was nervous, maybe, but not _afraid_.

They reached the 20th floor, and Goku led her through a long hallway flanked by two large rooms with glass walls. Inside were some series of cubicles, and on the corners were some small offices. There weren’t many people taking up the spaces though, each one seated about two seats apart from each other.

“These guys are our call center agents. They started last year, so there’s not a lot of them. They’re probably gonna move to the 18th floor once the renovations there are done,” Goku said, motioning to the people in the small department.

They kept walking straight, until they came upon a large space with a very wide, bean-shaped mahogany desk. A new computer, a phone, and a printer stood in the center of the desk, and behind the desk was a comfy-looking office chair.

“Ouji-sama’s old secretary’s desk,” he answered before she could ask. “So I guess this is your desk, now.”

The narrow hallway then opened up into a wide space that was currently full of employees talking in hushed whispers, arms loaded with several different documents, books and journals. Behind the harried employees was a large door with a secure locking mechanism, that Bulma noted, was a Capsule Corp product.

“Hey, Tien!” Goku greeted a bald man who had just emerged from the office behind the imposing door.

“Goku,” he greeted, the surprise clear on his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m bringing Ouji-san’s new secretary to him.”

Tien eyed Bulma, a near-imperceptible nod his only greeting, before he moved past them to join the other people huddled around them.

Goku walked up to the machine and pressed a small button on the side. “Ouji-san? It’s Goku. I have your new assistant here.”

The machine beeped, the door opening a tiny fraction. Goku pushed it open, then turned to her with another bright smile before he led her into the office.

The office was huge. Floor to ceiling glass walls gave the room lots of natural light. A sitting area with a long plush couch, two arm chairs and a coffee table - for guests, Bulma presumed - was on one side, and on the other was an expansive set of large display cabinets that proudly showed off numerous plaques and trophies.

Straight ahead was a very large L-shaped executive desk. On the furthest edge sat a computer, and the front part of the large table held an astounding amount of paperwork. Behind the table was a big manager’s chair, but Bulma noted that the chair was vacant.

Casting her eyes around, she saw a man who stood with his back turned to them. He was facing the glass walls, seemingly unaware of their presence. She knew that he was simply ignoring them though, because she noticed the small keyring with a small fob in his left hand, which she knew contained the mechanism that allowed him to unlock the door to let them in.

He wore a simple, light blue, long sleeved, button up shirt and navy blue slacks. His feet were encased in expensive-looking black leather shoes, and in his left arm, she noticed a large-faced silver watch.

Observing him from behind, Bulma noted that he was a man of slightly below average height, but he had dark hair that stood in rebellious waves on his head that she felt made him look a bit taller. She noted that he had a slim but muscular build, his narrow waist and hips angling starkly from a wide back.

She tried to peek around him, hoping to see a reflection of his face from the glass. Sadly, since it was a bright day, the only thing she could see was the city outside, shining straight through a very foggy mirror image of his outline.

“Hi, Ouji-san!” Goku greeted, breaking her from her observations.

“Leave us, Kakarot,” the man spoke, and Bulma, unbidden, felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end at the deep timbre of his voice. He had a slightly gruff tone, a sexy undercurrent lining his words, making Bulma zero in on him as he continued. “I wish to speak with the woman alone.”

_“The woman?”_ she thought, bristling slightly at the rather rude way he referred to her.

The bastard hadn’t even turned to face them yet.

_“And what the hell is a cacarot?”_ she thought mutinously.

“Ok,” Goku responded, then he turned to her, and Bulma figured out that Goku was this _cacarot_. He lifted a hand, flashing a thumbs-up, then said, “Good luck, Bulma!”

The man then walked back the way they came, pressing the unlock to let himself out, leaving Bulma alone with her apparently broody new boss.

She stared at his back, almost willing him to turn around, but he remained stubbornly facing the wall, staring out at the streets twenty storeys beneath them.

Bulma decided to be the one to break the silence. “Hello, Ouji-san. I am Bulma Briefs, and I was told that I am to be your Executive Assistant. I-”

“I have already been more than informed about you and your qualifications, Briefs-san,” he cut her off, a harsh edge to his voice. “My father made very certain to make me _remember_ that you are a genius, a _gem_ that he found amongst the usual garbage we find in the pile of job applicant resumés.”

Bulma sensed the hostility in his tone. “I was told that you have never agreed to have an assistant.”

“That is right, and do you know, why?”

“Because you have found all the ones before me to be spineless, dumb and incapable? Well then, it’s a good thing that I am none of those things,” she replied, and the smugness of her tone must have intrigued him as he cocked his head a little to the side.

“Oh, really?” he asked snidely.

Bulma pushed on, seeing now that if she showed any hesitation, this man would discard her like he had rejected all previous possible assistants.

From what she had heard about him so far, she can tell that he was an extremely difficult man… but a brilliant one. If she was going to get anywhere in corporate, she needed experience from somebody like him. She _needed_ him to agree to keep her.

“Absolutely,” she smirked. “I’d bet that I am probably the smartest damn woman you have ever met, and it would be unlike you to throw someone like me away.”

“And what do you presume to know of what I am like or not like?”

Bulma raised an eyebrow as she spoke, “You have singlehandedly doubled the value of Ouji Enterprises’ stocks within your first two years as COO. Given your current age, I would assume that it was your first job, and you’ve already achieved that much. This means, that you must be smart and tactical. And it would not be smart and tactical to refuse to have me around.”

“And why is that?” he asked, and Bulma cheered internally as she sensed the genuine interest in his question.

She went in for the kill.

“Because I am the kind of genius that can run circles around this company’s entire IT infrastructure. I could wheedle my way into becoming your top-performing sales agent. I can build you an entirely mechanized house if you want me to. But I am, instead, offering my services to you, as your assistant. I am your intellectual equal, and I could help you make this company even more astounding than it already is. All you have to do is keep me in the background, acting like a glorified receptionist, sitting behind that desk that is several meters behind me.”

His left arm twitched, and he pocketed the key fob as he moved minutely closer to turning around. “What makes you think I need help, Briefs-san?”

“I’m sure you don’t,” she answered. “But it would make it a heck of a lot more pleasant to not handle everything by yourself, wouldn’t it?”

She thought she saw the shadow of a smirk on the sides of his mouth, before he finally turned around, facing her squarely for the very first time.

Their eyes met, and an inexplicable chill zipped rapidly up her spine as she stared directly into the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen.

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her directly, her heart stopping entirely and furiously restarting as she let her eyes rove over the angular planes of his striking face.

His eyes, like Goku said, were mean-looking, narrowed slightly with thick dark eyebrows that slashed stridently above his lids. His gaze shot through her like a bullet, stealing her breath with its intensity, leaving her motionless in a most confusing daze.

His black hair framed his face with a severe widow’s peak. He had a finely-boned nose above full, pursed lips that seemed to be hiding either a smirk or a snarl. His lightly tanned skin was delicious caramel in the sunlight, and his jaw line was so sharp that it could have cut through steel. His thick neck guided her stare down to his body, where his shirt stretched across a thick chest while his biceps strained against the fine material of his sleeves.

Bulma’s throat had gone completely dry.

He too, stared tacitly at her, and a small eternity seemed to have passed before his low voice broke the silence.

“Very well, Briefs-san. I am Vegeta Ouji, Chief Executive Officer. Welcome to Ouji Enterprises.”

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

Bulma was dressed and getting ready for bed when she remembered that she had stuck her cell phone into her bag. She took it out to set her alarm so she would wake up in time for work in a few hours.

She sat on the edge of her bed and unlocked her phone… and her face went pale as she saw her notifications.

Ten missed calls. Seven text messages. All from Vegeta.

She checked and found that the earliest call was from fifteen minutes ago, while the latest was only two minutes ago. Wondering why she hadn’t heard the call tone, she pulled her status bar down and noticed that the phone was on silent.

She decided to check the messages, and saw that each message was sent in varying states of anger or distress.

_> Bulma, did you leave?_

_> Where are you?!_

_> Answer your phone._

_> Dammit Bulma, are you alright? _

_> Why aren’t you answering your fucking phone?!_

_> Did you go home? Where are you? Are you alright?_

_> Dammit Bulma, I am going to your apartment and you had better be at home. _

She blanches at the last message, the one from two minutes ago. He knew where she lived, he had taken her back to her building a handful of times, but she had never let him in.

Her apartment was her sanctuary. She wasn’t ready to let him in.

She just wasn’t ready to _let him in._

Just as she was about to panic, her phone starts to vibrate with an incoming call, and she was so startled that she accepted the call.

“Bulma?!”

His voice was so loud, she could hear him before she placed the phone to her ear.

“Vegeta,” she answered, and she could hear his sigh of relief from the other line.

“You stupid woman, why did you leave without telling me and why weren’t you picking up your phone?”

“Vegeta, I’m fine. I’m at home now, I’m about to go to sleep.”

“How was I supposed to know?” he snapped. “I woke and you weren’t there. It’s almost Goddamn morning and you could have fallen asleep at the wheel driving home.”

Bulma frowned. “Are you seriously lecturing me on road safety when you are currently clearly driving and on the phone at the same time?”

“That’s different, woman.”

“No it’s not, Vegeta. That isn’t safe. You need to go home and sleep, you have a board meeting in,” she checked her clock. Almost four in the morning. “Five hours. Your meeting is in five hours.”

“Fuck the board. I’m coming over,” he growled, and she heard the thrum of his car motor as he revved his engine.

“Vegeta, no!” she stressed. “You are _not_ coming over. You are going to go back to your apartment, straight to bed, and you are going to rest.”

He went silent, and Bulma chewed her bottom lip as she waited for him to talk again.

She heard a sigh. “Are you certain that you are fine?” he asked, his voice soft, timid.

“Yes, I’m sure. Go home Vegeta. Put the phone down and go home,” she almost pleaded.

“…Alright,” he answered. “See you later, Bulma.”

The line went dead, and Bulma pulled it away from her ear, staring at her dark screen for several minutes, her own somber eyes watching her from where they were reflected on the screen.

When she finally gathered her wits about her, she set the alarm, and placed the phone down on the small desk beside her bed.

She lay down on her side, pushing her hair away from her eyes. As she did, her hand was met with some moisture, and she touched her face, surprised to find it wet.

Wet with tears.

She was crying, and now that the tears had somehow escaped her tight control, the sobs began breaking out, shaking her shoulders with the strength of her agony.

It was only after her body had given in to exhaustion that she fell asleep, the tears still falling down her cheeks.

 

8-8-8-8-8

 

_To be continued…_


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma tries to navigate another day in the office with Vegeta, but after their tryst in his office, have they finally gone too far? She then delves into the memories of their first night together, as she tries to figure out what she truly wants from him, and what he could truly want from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Before we get on with the story, lemme just say that, jeeeez, this chapter was difficult to write. It is also rather long, (around 8,000 OMG), and I had to rewrite some parts of it, but I’m still not quite sure if it captures everything I wanted this chapter to convey. And since I had such a tough time with this chapter and this particular smut scene, I sincerely hope that you like it!  
> Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

 

“Ouji-san, we still fail to see why you think it is so imperative that you establish a separate call center department,” one of the board members said in response to Vegeta’s presentation. “You have your sales agents. They can handle the phone inquiries.”

“As I have just explained, Hercule-san,” Vegeta began, picking up the projector remote to set the presentation on to the correct PowerPoint slide, “the call center takes the burden of initial inquiries off the shoulders of the sales team. The sales team can then focus on more intensive sales methods.”

Bulma concentrated on Vegeta’s words as she took note of the discussion for her meeting minutes.

He was correct, of course. With the departure of Tien, one of their strongest sales agents, the sales team was having a tougher time. The call center was a huge help, keeping them from being overwhelmed by their workloads.

However, she knew the real reason for the call center... Why Vegeta so heavily insisted on keeping them.

.

8-8- **Flashback** -8-8

“Juvie?” Bulma asked in astonishment, her fork paused on its way to her mouth.

Vegeta nodded, picking up some tissue to wipe spaghetti sauce from his mouth. They were in the EO kitchen, eating Bulma’s cooking while on a short work break. She had worried that the sauce was too salty, but Vegeta, bottomless pit that he was, said that her pasta dish was  _alright_.

“They used to be detainees of juvenile detention centers, yes,” he confirmed.

“Why on earth do we have a department full of ex-cons?” she asked in confusion.

“Oi. Don’t call them that,” he said, pointing at her with his fork in light reprimand. “Those kids grew up with nothing. No decent family, messed up neighborhoods, you know the type.”

Bulma nodded, slightly chagrined but still puzzled.

“Typical kids without work experience have enough trouble getting hired,” he continued, twirling some pasta onto his fork as he spoke. “Can you imagine how much harder it would be if you have a criminal record?”

“So you’re saying…”

“We are hiring them to give them a fighting chance. So they can find a decent living… so that when  _they_  have kids, their children won’t have to go through the same things they did and hopefully won’t have to ever end up in juvenile.”

.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma swelled with pride as Vegeta continued to defend the call center. He looked eerily calm on the outside, but inside, she knew he was seething. He was so passionate about this, just as he was about everything that he believed in. The man never did things in halves.

A small tingle in the back of her neck reminded her of just  _how_ passionate he had been just a few hours ago.

She blushed heavily, forcing her mind to get it together and  _fucking concentrate on the meeting._

.

8-8-8-8-8

After the meeting was over, Bulma and Vegeta went back to their respective offices to work on other things. It still astonished her, how many emails and how much paperwork could pile up after only a couple of hours away from her desk, and she knew it was even worse for her boss.

He had given her strict instructions not to let anyone disturb him for the rest of the day. He proceeded to spend the entire day quietly holed up in his office, the emails he kept sending out the only indication that he was even  _alive_.

Fifteen minutes before five in the afternoon, Bulma was about to start getting ready to go home when she received a call from his office.

“Ouji-san?” she spoke into the receiver.

“Come into my office,” he said, dropping the line before she could give an answer.

She hated when he was like this. At his worst, Vegeta was domineering, arrogant and condescending, and they had fought and argued so violently when she was new at Ouji Ent. that it was a wonder that he didn’t  terminate her employment then.

There were times when she had wondered if what she had said was too harsh, if she had antagonized him just a bit too much, but right when it was on the tip of her tongue to scream that she wanted to quit, he would smirk, turn back to his desk and then ask her to proceed with her work.

She took the long hallway in quick, wide strides, knowing that she would get an earful if she was even a microsecond later than he was expecting.

She pressed the doorlock bell, and pushed the door open the second she heard the beep that signaled that the door was unlocked.

He stared straight at her as she entered, his glasses sitting near the tip of his nose. He didn’t remove his eyes from her as he took off the specs, calmly laying them down on the table before him.

On her part, Bulma trained her eyes straight ahead, meeting his stare dead on, not even daring to think of glancing at the couch to her right.

As she focused on him, she finally noted the signs of fatigue in his tense posture, and her gaze widened in concern as she took in the deep bags under his eyes and the defeated slouch of his shoulders.

The first two buttons of his dark grey shirt were undone, his necktie gone. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows haphazardly, the material just hurriedly bundled up instead of being primly folded as he was usually prone to doing.

In the bright light of the office, she noted the small scar that marred his forearm. It was thin, about half an inch long, and was slightly paler than the rest of his arm. It was barely there, but was noticeable to anyone who knew where to look.

And Bulma knew where to look, because she was the one who gave him that scar…  _that_  night, after the office party.

.

8-8  **Flashback**  8-8

Bulma peered down at the mobile phone that was vibrating in her hand.

Bulma was standing beside Vegeta near the large entryway of the party hall, thanking everyone who had begun to file out and head home. The office party was finally beginning to wind down… There had been an open bar, as the CEO had insisted, and the employees had taken full advantage of the flowing liquor. The tipsy air led to some entertaining loose lips and shenanigans, where Bulma discovered that the call center kids were not the only ones with questionable backgrounds.

Roshi, the HR Manager himself, had a misdemeanor for distribution of pornography from his late teens, and Raditz practically had a daily attendance record at his old town’s police station. Launch had once pled guilty to underage possession of firearms, and Tien, who was leaving the company to go back to his home in the mountains, had once been fined for brawling.

It certainly seemed as if Vegeta Ouji-sama had shared his fondness for reformed delinquents with his son, Vegeta Ouji-san, who apparently also nearly got busted for gambling and street fighting when he was seventeen.

What a lively group of miscreants she had unwittingly surrounded herself with.

Speaking of miscreants, Bulma grinned when she saw the name of the caller on her phone.

She excused herself, then moved away from the crowd of people to a corner of the party hall, away from anyone who could overhear.

She slid the call icon to take the call.

“Bulma?” the rather loud voice greeted.

“Hey Tights! What’s up?”

“Oh, the usual. Bills, screaming and crying, puke on my shirt,” Tights laughed, and Bulma felt that familiar ache in her chest as she remembered how much she missed her elder sister.

“Oh c’mon sis! Isn’t motherhood supposed to be  _rewarding?”_

“My  _ass._ I will kill the next person to tell me that.”

Bulma giggled. “How is my sweet little nephew, Jaco?”

“Finally asleep. I thought he had colic the other day, but he’s fine now.”

“I still can’t believe you named him after the main character of your novel.”

“And why not?” Tights said. “Jaco the Galactic Patrolman is an awesome character.”

“Well, I guess the good ratings on goodreads dot com agree with you.”

“And mom is  _still_ convinced that I had to sleep with my editor to get it published,” Tights scoffed. “The book was published because it was good. My sleeping with Kaito was incidental.”

Bulma sobered at the reminder of the man who had gotten her sister pregnant. “And how is that asshole? Is he paying child support?”

“Actually, he-”

“Bulma-san!” a loud voice called nearby, startling her enough to make her nearly drop her phone.

She distractedly noticed that Vegeta was now standing in the middle of the hall, looking around as if trying to find her over the rapidly thinning crowd.

“Sis?” Tights asked over the line.

“Tights I am so sorry, I have to go,” Bulma said as Vegeta’s eyes finally landed on her, his eyes narrowing as he began to take his steps towards her.

“Wait, before you go,” Tights rushed. “I also called to tell you that I have heard that Dad’s people have found that you are in South City. It’s only a matter of time before they zero in on where you are, exactly, so you have to be prepared.”

She blanched, nervously pushing strands of her blue hair off her face. “Oh no. Thanks for telling me, Sis. I have to go now. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, Bulma.”

The line went dead, and she stuck her phone in her purse as Vegeta approached her.

She straightened, and she admired his confident swagger as he came closer. He was dressed more casually than normal today, in a navy blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, and black pants that fit him just a touch more snugly than his usual slacks.

He looked positively good enough to eat.

Bulma shivered at the thought.

She had known that he was an attractive man since the moment she met him, but over the past five months that she had been working with him, things had… escalated.

His gazes on her had begun to linger just a bit too long, and she knew this because she too often found herself staring at him long enough to meet his gaze.

He sometimes took her out to get coffee during their breaks, and ate lunch with her in the office when he wasn’t too busy. They spoke about all sorts of things during those breaks, and he surprised her when he actually engaged her in discussions about popular mechanics, as she had surprised him with her understanding of the stock market.

She had been right – they were intellectually compatible, and this showed during their presentations and reports. They thought along the same lines while taking different approaches, and usually ended up with phenomenal new ideas.

She admired him to a terrifying degree.

She shook herself out of her reverie as she watched him approach her, and she self-consciously smoothed out her short, strapless red dress.

“Bulma-san. I believe this party is almost over. How do you plan to get home?” he asked as he came to stand before her.

Her car was broken that day, a not-so-merry surprise that greeted her as she was headed to the party, and she had no time to fix it. She had called Vegeta to let him know that she was going to be late because she needed to get a cab, but he had instead volunteered to take her there in his car.

“I think I will just take a cab,” she answered.

His brows lowered in disagreement. “That is ridiculous. Your apartment is at least half an hour away from this hotel, and it is quite late.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Bulma said. “I have enough money to pay for a cab.”

“Money is easy. The problem is that it is  _late,_ and it is  _dangerous.”_

Bulma’s heart fluttered at his concern. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“No girl is big enough to fend off a malicious attacker or a car accident,” he said.

She was about to tell him that what he said was borderline sexist, when he continued.

“Why don’t you spend the night in my hotel room?”

Bulma felt a furious heat rush over her cheeks, almost dizzying in its intensity, and she was sure that her entire face must have turned redder than a tomato.

Vegeta must have realized how that sounded, because he too flushed, as he sputtered, “It- I- T- The room has two bedrooms! It was a complimentary room because we booked the party hall and it is a large room. Two  _separate_  bedrooms.”

“It-It- I- Thank you but it seems inappropriate,” she said, flustered and wishing for the earth to open up and swallow her whole… and based on how red Vegeta looked, he was probably wishing for the same thing.

“Then I’ll pay for a separate room for you!”

“Ouji-san, you don’t need to do that, I can just go home and-”

“Bulma, please,” he said, and Bulma was stunned that he had dropped the honorific after her name.

 _“He called me by my first name,”_ she thought in surprise.

Vegeta, for his part, seemed to not have noticed. “I cannot in good conscience let you go out into the streets alone this late. If you wish to head home, I will take you home in my car.”

“Ouji-san, please, I couldn’t possibly impose-”

“Then stay in the hotel. I can get you a room.”

He was not going to let this go. “I don’t have a change of clothes…”

“They have bathrobes you could use to sleep in,” he pushed on, undeterred. “You can just put your current dress away and go home in that attire tomorrow morning.”

Bulma glanced around the party hall, realizing that it was deserted now, save for the hotel cleaning crew, because it really was late. “I can’t let you just pay for my room…”

“Then stay in my room, in the other bedroom,” he said.

She considered… it was really late…

“Alright. Let’s have a sleepover, Ouji-san,” she said with a grin.

He smiled back, a brilliant, beautiful smile that made her heart miss a beat, before he held his hand out for her.

Inexplicably, for the very first time, she took his hand and let him lead the way.

8-8-8-8-8

His voice broke her reverie, and it suddenly occurred to Bulma that he hadn’t spoken to her before or during the board meeting.

“Bulma,” he said her name softly, betraying his exhaustion. “I’m tired.”

“I can see that, Ouji-san,” she answered. “You look very tired, you should probably go home-”

“Why did you leave, last night?”

Bulma paled. She opened her mouth to answer him, but he waved her off.

“No matter. I know you wouldn’t have any answers to that. Consider it a rhetorical question,” he said, and Bulma winced at the bitter note she could hear in his voice.

He got up, bracing his arms on the table as he did, and Bulma’s eyes were again arrested by the small mark on his otherwise flawless skin.

 _Her_ mark.

“You were right, Bulma-san. I should head home. And so should you,” he said, pocketing his keys and door lock, before he began to head for the door.

She stood frozen in front of his desk, staring after his retreating form.

He turned back to her, one eyebrow raised in question. “Well?”

Steeling herself, she nodded and made her way to the door.

They left the office in silence, standing beside each other in the elevator as it brought them down to the employee parking level.

They reached the parking level, and Bulma was surprised as he turned away from her without a word and headed for his car.

“Ouji-san…” she called out hesitantly, and her heart pinched when he paused in his strides, but did not turn to face her.

“See you tomorrow, Bulma-san,” he said before he resumed walking until he turned a corner to get to his car in his reserved space.

Bulma numbly walked to her car, going through the motions of starting her engine and backing out of her parking space.

She drove home, the drive taking her mind off the heavy feeling he left in her chest, but when she found herself alone at home, her conflicted mind kept replaying that vision of him walking away from her in the parking lot.

She took a shower, ate dinner, and went to bed earlier than she ever had since she was a child, hoping that sleep would clear her mind.

Clearing her mind was the  _last_  thing that sleep did for her, as she found herself submerged in a heavy dream, a dream of a very vivid recent memory that she had been thinking about just a few hours before.

.

8-8  **Flashback**  8-8

Bulma blinked as she entered the hotel room, turning back to her host as she heard him close the door behind them.

The room was large, and rather impressive. A sitting room was in the middle of a large circular entrance area, a small dining set and a personal fridge just beyond it. There was a bathroom just to the right, and a short hallway led into two bedrooms, with the doors facing each other.

“It’s not an executive suite,” Vegeta began. “There is only one bathroom, but you can have it first if you wish. I have put my things in the bedroom to the right, so you can have the other one.”

Bulma nodded, and she walked past the sitting room to enter the bedroom to the left, and placed her small clutch and phone on the center of the mattress.

The mattress was soft and luxurious, and it reminded her of her bed back in her childhood home, the one she left behind when she decided to pursue corporate and deviate from her family’s plans.

She sat down on the soft down sheets, and childishly bounced on it a few times, a grin on her face as she relished in the forgotten feel of the softness of expensive linen.

“Enjoying yourself?” a voice asked from the still open entryway, and Bulma blushed as she looked up at Vegeta’s smirking face.

“I just wanted to see how bouncy it is,” Bulma said with a pout.

To her surprise, Vegeta threw his head back and  _laughed._

It was a loud, happy sound that seemed so out of place with his usually guttural voice. His eyes had clamped shut, a light flush in his cheeks as he placed a hand on his forehead as if to support a suddenly heavy head.

She chuckled along with him then, placing a hand on her chest as her giggles rose, and soon they were winded from laughing. He was leaning heavily on the doorway, and she was wiping gleeful tears from her eyes as they both tried to regain composure.

After they had both caught their breaths, he stood straight and smiled at her, a heart stopping grin that made her knees tremble.

“I will leave you for now,” Vegeta said. “Please take the first turn at the bathroom and just knock on my door when you are done.”

When he left, she turned to the small table beside the bed, which held a white towel, bathrobe and a small garment bag. She took all three with her to the bathroom, stuffing her dress and underwear into the garment bag before she turned the shower on for a quick wash.

She looked around the tiny bathroom – nothing but a shower and toilet – and found the usual complimentary toiletries. She made full use of them, washing her hair and body and gladly brushing her teeth.

When she was done and dried, she dressed in the bathrobe, pulling the belt securely around her waist, then opened the bathroom door.

Stunned dark eyes greeted her as the door swung open.

Vegeta had been standing just a few feet away, a half-empty cup of coffee in his hand.

They stared at each other in shocked silence, and Bulma felt heat overwhelm her when she saw his eyes dart down, taking a quick glance at her body before he hurriedly pulled his eyes back up to meet hers.

A dark flush was on his cheeks, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he seemed to grope for something to say.

“I’m done!” she squeaked out -

As he blurted out, “I was just taking some coffee!”

She quickly jogged into her bedroom, feeling as if her face was about to spontaneously combust from the heat, and hurriedly slammed the door behind her.

She was utterly mortified, but more than that, she was flattered… she didn’t miss the unmistakable appreciation she saw in Vegeta’s eyes as he stared at her, and he seemed almost unable to tear his eyes away.

But dammit, now she wanted a drink and she was too embarrassed to see him!

After a few minutes, she peered out the bedroom door and walked out, hoping that Vegeta was gone from the main room.

She heard the shower running, and logically deducing that Vegeta was using the bathroom, she took the chance to slip out to the kitchen to get some water.

She opened the fridge and found five bottles of cold water, and she gratefully opened one and took a large gulp, noting the sealed cups of complimentary instant coffee beside the water heater on the fridge.

She wandered into the sitting room, plopping down on the couch with her water bottle in hand. She stared out at nothing, lost in thoughts of Tights, her parents, and the ridiculously attractive man who was naked in the shower just a few meters away from her.

She was beginning to think that agreeing to stay with him in the hotel overnight was a mistake.

She also realized that he could be done bathing any moment now, and if she didn’t run back to her room, she would see him again.

Just as those thoughts rang in her head and she began getting up to leave the main room, the door to the bathroom opened, and it was her turn to stare dumbly at the figure that emerged.

Vegeta had on nothing but a pair of loose blue pants and his towel slung over his shoulders. His hair was damp, and droplets of water fell from the tips of his thick hair to teasingly trickle onto his broad shoulders.

She had always suspected that he was well-built, if the silhouettes she could see through his work clothes were any indication… but seeing his bare chest, perfectly molded by his workouts, and the sculpted muscles of his arms made Bulma positively shudder in want.

His gruff voice startled her when he spoke.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now,” he said, slowly and hesitantly taking a step in her direction.

Bulma noted that his gaze was cast down, and she self-consciously pulled her short robe down to cover more of her thighs.

“No, I was… I was thinking,” she said, and he, upon seeing that she had no objections to his presence, moved to sit beside her on the couch, to her right.

“About what?” he asked, balling up his towel and carelessly throwing it onto a chair, watching her as she drained her water bottle in one last gulp and tossed the empty container into a nearby bin.

“Stuff,” she answered with a vague wave of her hand.

He leaned back onto the plush chair, watching her through his intense black eyes.

She felt her cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny, and a deep, untouched part of herself sizzled in excitement at his curious stare.

She had spent most of the party at his side, and now they were about to sleep in the same room… but somehow, to Bulma, it still felt like they weren’t close enough.

As if he heard her internal plea, he moved so he was sitting closer to her, their legs almost touching.

He said nothing, but Bulma saw an endless stream of questions in his gaze, scrolling past each other so quickly that she couldn’t focus on any one long enough to understand.

All she could see were his lips, lips that seemed too pink and full for a man, and she found herself wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

If they would taste as sweet as she imagined them to be.

She could feel his breath on her cheek, and it was only then that she noticed that he had begun to lean closer to her… and that she had turned her body to face his. 

His right hand hovered hesitantly over her left, which had nervously tangled into the thick material of her robe, her long nails scraping lightly against the skin of her thigh.

She tore her gaze from his lips to meet his eyes, darker than night, but shining brighter than the stars.

She took a breath…

Her heart pulsed wildly in her chest…

And suddenly, his lips were on hers, kissing her with a hunger so deep and desperate that she could do nothing but shiver, close her eyes, and melt against him.

His hand closed over her tightly fisted one, pulling it free from its death grip on her robe, and he coaxed her hand to relax until her fingers twined with his own.

His other hand reached up, cupping her cheek softly before it reached further back to tangle his fingers with her soft blue hair, using those strands to hold her head more securely in his grasp so he could pull her in closer.

She gasped as he pulled her hair, and he quickly snuck his tongue past her open lips to explore her mouth.

She felt him licking her lips, before his wicked tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, seeking out her tongue and playfully luring it to dance with his.

She opened her mouth a little wider, gasping at the feelings his kiss evoked within her. She was panting, her lungs screaming for air, but she didn’t dare pull away as she desperately needed to feel more of this amazing rush of sensations.

She was drowning in him, basking in the feel of his hands on her, in the way he held her so gently but with an underlying fierceness that brought untold whispers of comfort to her chest.

Vegeta’s touch was telling her that he wanted her to be his. His kiss was branding his possession into her very soul.

However, he was the first to pull away, and she noted with delight that he too was gasping for breath, his cheeks crimson as he stared deeply into her eyes.

“Bulma,” he gasped, the desire clear in his voice, in the way his wandering hands left butterfly touches over her hands, her arms, her face…

“Vegeta,” she whispered, her blush deepening as she realized that she had just called him by his first name… for the very first time.

Passion darkened his eyes, as if the sound of his name on her lips awoke a wicked, primal need within him. His hands suddenly clutched her to him, pulling her to stand with him.

He took her hand, and wordlessly, led her to the small hallway that led to the doorways to their bedrooms.

He stopped as they reached the center of the path, the two opposing doorways on either side of them.

He was giving her a choice… a way out. The decision was hers, between which of the two doorways she chose to go into.

They stared at each other, he still lightly holding her hand, she biting her bottom lip in indecision.

“Bulma,” he called her name, and just like that, all of her senses were tuned to him again. “Stay with me tonight.”

His gaze was open and vulnerable, his hand on hers hot and firm.

Bulma could see the unspoken options that he had lain out for her.

She stepped closer to him, her hand lifting to flatten her palm against the center of his broad chest, feeling his heart pound beneath her fingertips.

He waited on baited breath, one hand still twined with hers, while the other rested gently on her waist.

She thought back on how he could have easily had his way with her, but instead had the decency to pull away and give her a chance to think.

It would be so wrong to let this go any further. He was her  _boss_ for fuck’s sake! She would have to see him everyday. It would be beyond unwise to let anything happen between them.

Yet… he was intelligent, begrudgingly caring, and was the first man with whom Bulma had ever been able to let go and just…  _be_.

A very large part of her was screaming at her that she wanted this… and that a chance like this would only happen once. Knowing his pride, if she turned him away, he would never approach her again.

Bulma, in her selfish desires and never-ending curiosity, wanted to know what it was like to  _know_ a man like Vegeta.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips.

She had made her choice.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him so ardently that she was lifted off her feet.

She gasped against his mouth as he held her tight, one of her arms trapped helplessly between their chests as she felt him stumble back until he had them both inside his bedroom.

He used one foot to kick the door closed, and his other hand let go of her as he fumbled up the wall to turn down the lights.

They didn’t stop kissing, even as she felt both of his arms hold her to lift her by the waist and carry her, and in her frenzy, she didn’t even stop to care where he planned to take her.

She simply lifted her arms to cling to him, wrapping her arms around him, her hands pawing greedily at the sinewy muscles of his back.

She was so enthralled by his movements, his hot mouth pushing the most delicious tingles throughout her whole body, that she was surprised when she found herself flat on the bed, her back sinking into the plush softness of the mattress.

He stopped kissing her, only to rise over her, his gaze fixed intently on her face. She was trapped by his arms, his legs astride her own as he leaned over her on his hands and knees.

Her heart raced madly as puffs of his breath fanned teasingly across her lips, the tip of his nose touching hers, before he bent down to nuzzle her cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat, the tender gesture catching her off guard. She reached down, one small hand laying on his bare chest, before she snaked it back up to smooth up and down his defined bicep.

She had never been in such a vulnerable position before, and her knees shook as he placed small kisses across her face, her temple, before finally finding her lips once more.

She felt him shift his weight until his hands no longer held him up above her, and those hands then set to work, roving her body through the smooth cotton of her robe.

One of his hands softly touched her clothed breast, and she moaned into his mouth as the gentle touch sent electricity rushing all across her form, resonating to the very tips of her toes.

He pulled back, his eyes searching hers for any objections, as his fingers very slowly moved up to her chest, parting the folds of her robe.

She shivered as he pulled the robe open, and she felt an embarrassed flush rush through her entire body as he exposed her breasts to his hungry eyes.

Vegeta gasped, a reverent sort of awe on his face as he stared at her pale chest.

Her nipples pebbled, whether because of the cold or his pleased expression, she wasn’t quite sure, but she did know that his hand softly cupping one breast was definitely the cause of the molten heat that flooded her in the next moment.

She arched up, an embarrassingly loud gasp erupting from her mouth as he began to knead her breast, his thumb softly running across her hardened nipple.

Bulma could barely believe that such a deceptively simple thing could feel so… overwhelming.

She heard herself moan, and she would have been mortified at the sounds she was making, if Vegeta didn’t quickly swoop down and begin laving her neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

He was sucking on her neck, nipping at her collarbone, and she whined incoherently when he pinched her nipples teasingly, his hot breath slowly moving down until he was panting hotly against her chest.

“Vegeta,” she whispered, her voice deep, dazed, but he didn’t even spare her a glance before his oh, so sinfully beautiful mouth wrapped around her nipple, his tongue lazily flicking the tip as he sucked.

“Aaah!” she cried out, and her hands compulsively clenched, grasping desperately at his dampened skin.

One of her hands traveled to his head, twirling around in his chaotic hair as he sucked and licked at her chest, moving erratically from one breast to another, and she could barely keep up, helplessly laying back and keening from the incredible sensations flowing up and down her body.

Unable to control herself, she wrapped both arms around his head, crying out his name, hugging him to her as he kept playing with her chest.

She felt something burning low on her belly, an unnamed simmer that was spilling over rapidly as he kissed, squeezed, licked her pale orbs…

An implosion of sensation racked her, starting from deep within her, sending electrifying little flits hurtling outwards through the tips of her fingers and toes.

She gasped, a small whine stuck in her throat as she shook, tightening her hold on him as the feeling left her breathlessly weak.

Vegeta raised his head, looking into her eyes, a wide grin on his face as he regarded her flushed face, wide eyes, and heaving chest.

“You came for me,” he growled, his arms wrapping around her possessively, snaking beneath her back to pull her flush against him.

Bulma didn’t know what to say, and to be fair, she was breathing so hard that she wouldn’t have been able to speak, anyway.

He shifted against her, and as he did, she felt a peculiar hardness rub against her thigh.

Curiously, she raised her leg, trying to find it with her knee, but Vegeta suddenly groaned, an agonized sound that shocked her into stillness.

“Don’t, Bulma,” he whispered, pulling a hand away from her to push her leg back down onto the bed.

“ _That was… oh!”_ Bulma thought, bewildered. “ _He was hard because of this? Because of me?”_

Vegeta shifted again, and she let go of her grip around him as he tried to sit up before her. She watched as he slowly, deliberately dragged his fingers down her sides, tickling her with feather light touches until he brought his hands together at her front, playing suggestively with the ribbon on the belt holding her robe closed.

Their eyes met, and the questions in his dark orbs begged her to make a choice again.

She gave a small shy nod, and he deftly untied her robe, before parting it bit by bit, revealing her trembling nakedness to his avid eyes.

She could feel herself shaking, a mix of embarrassment, excitement, and an unwelcome shade of doubt making her shudder beneath him. She tore her gaze away, unable to look at him, too self-conscious to try to decipher the narrowed leer on his now grinning face.

“Vegeta, you’re staring… I… I’m so…” her tongue twisted, her mouth feeling like cotton as she tried in vain to articulate that him looking at her like that was making her anxious.

But then, he spoke, and her apprehension vanished at his words.

“You are absolutely stunning,” he muttered, almost only to himself, his voice so soft that if she wasn’t so hypersensitive at the moment, she could have missed it.

She turned to him, and to her utter astonishment, she found that his earlier grin had now vanished, and in its place was the most reverent smile she had ever seen.

His hands drifted an inch above the skin of her stomach, and he had a peculiar look on his face that made Bulma’s heart fill with unbidden joy. She gazed at him, feeling the corners of her eyes fill with tears.

She could barely believe that someone could ever look at her the way he was taking in every single thing about her right then.

She was gorgeous, she knew this, and she had known men to look at her with desire and lust… However, she had never seen anyone look at her the way Vegeta was looking at her right at that moment, as if he was seeing a miracle unfold before him.

She felt her hands shake as she reached for him, and he dutifully leaned closer to her, covering her body with his own as he dove down to give her another deep, soulful kiss.

She kissed him with ever-rising fervor, and she unconsciously spread her legs to take his hips between her thighs, cradling his larger form within her own as their hands roamed each other, trying to touch everything, experience everything about the other.

Her probing hands began to wander lower, until she felt the hard ridges of his lower back, moving further until her fingers played lazily at his hip bones.

He moaned lightly into her mouth, and she, emboldened by his response, let her fingers fiddle along the garter holding his thin pants up.

She felt his hands grip her tighter as she began to slip her hands into the waistband of his pants, and she was surprised by how warm he had gotten as she let her hands drift down until she touched that slope that led down to his buttocks.

With a gasp, he pulled away from her, grabbing onto her wrists before she could go any further.

He looked at her inquisitively once again, but she was determined: he had seen her naked. She wanted to see him, too.

She flexed her hands against him, and she began to push his pants over his hips, but to her disappointment, he straightened and moved away from her.

She was about to ask why, when she realized that he had moved so he can remove his clothing  _for_ her.

Her eyes swept down, watching as inch by delicious inch of him was revealed, and she marveled at the perfection of his hips, at the sheer strength of his thighs...

At the magnificent cock that stood hard and rigid between his legs.

She felt her own core grow wet, could feel the slick fluid begin to flow down her thighs, and suddenly, the room was too unbearably hot.

Bulma pulled at the sleeves of her robe that still hung around her arms, and discarded the article, so they now sat completely nude before each other.

He placed one hand on her shoulder and began to push her back to lay down against the bed once more.

As soon as she was flat against the sheets, his hands grasped her waist, smoothing down her body until his hands were on either side of her hips. He crawled down, and Bulma shuddered as she felt his overly heated breath blow enticingly across her lower stomach.

She was so blinded by his heat that she didn’t realize that one of his hands had drifted downwards until she felt his long fingers on her core.

“Aaah! Vegeta! What are you… oh!” she cried out as his fingers tickled her, palmed her, played softly at her lower lips, teasing her core with gentle rubs and caresses. Her hands flew up, clutching at the pillow beneath her head, and her body tried to bow back, and she was unsure if she was trying to push her core closer to him or move away from the overwhelming feeling of his hand on her there.

She felt as he began to inch a finger in, and the unfamiliar sensation of something foreign stretching her there made her release a harsh shout, chest heaving with her breaths as she tried to understand the heat coursing through her veins.

When his finger was fully inside her, she felt him begin to pull it out, only to push back in, more quickly than before.

Before she knew what was happening, he was pumping his finger inside her, and she could only wail helplessly as her hips tried to move in sync with his hand's movements within her.

She was going insane, she was sure she was, and she released her death grip on her pillow, intending to push his hand away before she completely lost her mind…

But Vegeta didn’t give her that chance, as he moved with unbelievable speed to crouch before her core, pushed her thighs wide apart with his hands and shoulders…

Bulma screamed uncontrollably as she felt his hot lips cover her core.

She twisted violently, nearly bucking him off her as she thrashed, her hips pushing themselves desperately against his mouth. He suckled her, licked her, entered her with his tongue, and she screeched, tears stinging her eyes as incredible pleasure filled her, overflowing to leak out of every pore.

Vegeta held her down, one hand pushing down on her lower stomach as he ate her out, the lewd slurping sounds making her even wetter as she cried his name out repeatedly, begging him to stop, then not to stop, to make the pulsing ache in her go away.

“Vegeta, I… I can’t… Oh Vegetaaaa!” she groaned, as she felt the ache within her grow stronger.

His teeth nipped at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves at her entrance, and Bulma’s vision went white as a heart-stopping release took over her, and she lost control of all senses, her body selfishly craving nothing but Vegeta’s touch.

She was still shaking as he crawled over her, and she felt his stiff cock slide between the slick lips of her sensitive core, only to rest nestled between their stomachs as he took her into his arms and just… held her.

His weight on her felt divine, but she couldn’t help but feel puzzled when he himself simply laid over her, his own body shaking with need, but he wasn’t doing  _anything._

She finally built up the courage to ask, her panting breaths making her stutter. “Why… why did you stop?”

He chuckled, and she felt the vibrations in her chest as he kept holding her close to him.

“I can’t continue,” he said. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, before he craned his neck to look up at her. “This was… unexpected. So I’m not… ready.”

Bulma chewed her lip.

This was another chance to stop.

But did she want to stop?

“It’s ok,” she heard herself say. “I’m on the pill.”

He stared at her with wide disbelieving eyes.

“I use it for my hormones. So, I’m… safe. You can…” she paused, embarrassed to even talk about it. “I mean, if you’re safe too, you can do it with me, without it.”

His eyes were unbelievably bright, and the smile he gave her then was so amazingly exultant that any doubts she may have had just disappeared.

He lifted himself up then, bracing himself on an elbow, before he reached up to stroke her cheek. He leaned in for another kiss, starting out with a light press of lips, and deepening it until Bulma was breathless with want once again.

She felt him reach down, and she realized that he was holding himself, aligning his cock with her entrance.

A slight bit of panic flitted through her but she quickly dashed it, focusing instead on his delightful kiss, on the warmth that filled her as his tongue plundered her mouth.

As she felt him nudge at her entrance with the thick, hot, head of his cock though, she realized that she wanted to  _see_.

With enormous effort, she pulled away from his kiss, casting her eyes down as she felt him begin to breach her.

Vegeta was so large, and Bulma felt her passage slowly give way as he pushed in. His face was close to hers, and she realized that he was staring at her face as he entered her, as if watching the emotions play across her eyes while she watched their bodies join.

It was… painful. With each inch that he pushed in, Bulma felt a mounting discomfort resonating from her core. She began to whimper, and when she keened a bit more loudly, he stopped moving.

“Bulma?” he asked, sweat dotting his forehead. His eyes looked fevered, almost manic as he spoke. “Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

“A little,” she said, a small embarrassed smile on her lips. “But it’s ok, keep going.”

He nodded, pushing in further, until he nudged against something a little hard inside her, and his entire body froze.

“You… Bulma… are you…?”

“Don’t stop, Vegeta,” she pleaded, squirming against him, enticing him to fill her.

He gazed at her in amazement, and he lifted a hand to stroke the stray blue stands of her hair away from her face.

He moved again, in a hard, quick thrust…

Bulma felt something pop, before a quick flash of pain emanated from deep within her.

She gasped, closing her eyes against the sting, her hands desperately groping for something to hold on to, something to anchor her as she fought against the throbbing in her body.

She found one of her hands tangled in the sheets, while the other curled to clutch fiercely at Vegeta’s arm that was braced beside her head.

The metallic scent of blood reached her, and she blinked her eyes open, surprised to see a drop of blood dripping down his arm. She realized then that in her distress, she had clawed at him, and her nail had dug into his skin, leaving a small, bleeding wound.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but Vegeta merely shook his head, then leaned over to leave a kiss on her cheek.

She felt him move slightly within her, and she gasped as the tiny movement elicited the most exquisite bliss within her core.

She looked into his eyes, and something in her gaze must have given him some sort of sign, as he moved back, pulling himself out slightly, before he thrust back in, and Bulma felt an incredible wave of indescribable pleasure flood her as he moved, thrusting in and out of her quivering body.

Soon, she was utterly lost in him, moaning, gasping his name, incoherent words tumbling out of her lips as he kept plunging in and out of her.

She can’t keep track of his hands… they seemed to be everywhere, tormenting her with soft caresses and eager touches. His lips were on her lips, on her cheeks, nibbling harshly at her throat, suckling on her collarbones as his hips pounded an increasingly punishing rhythm against her hips.

He was growling against her, her name flying carelessly from between his clenched teeth as he reared up, gathered her into his arms, and smashed her hips against his with reckless abandon.

Bulma was delirious with pleasure, and as the burning sensation within her began to coil too tightly, she desperately wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his hips, her palms slipping on his sweat-dampened back as she pulled him to her as tightly as she possibly could.

“Bulma!” he cried out hoarsely as he moved wildly, frenziedly, chasing that peak so they could leap off the edge together.

She keened in his ear, panting his name, squeezing her eyes closed as she felt herself reaching… reaching… almost…

The white hot explosion within her rocked her from her very soul, and Bulma screamed as she toppled over the edge.

“Vegeta!”

“Bulma!”

She felt warmth fill her, coating her from within, like a hug coming from inside her body, filling her with rhapsody even as she shook from her incredible release.

As she stopped quaking, she felt Vegeta pull out, and the warmth within her seeped out, flowing down her thighs and onto the white sheets beneath them.

She was exhausted, and the warmth of his arms as he held her comforted her, lulling her to sleep.

.

8-8-8-8-8

Bulma awoke from her dream, and on shaky legs, she got up to get some water for her parched throat.

She remembered exactly what happened afterwards.

She woke at five in the morning, struck by panic as she realized what she had done. She got up, and while Vegeta lay asleep, she ran to her room, used a wad of tissue to clean her thighs, then hurriedly dressed in the previous night’s clothing.

She ran out of the hotel, hailed the nearest cab and fled back home, ignoring the frantic phone calls from Vegeta when he awoke an hour after she had gone.

She avoided him the entire weekend, and on Monday morning, she strode determinedly to her desk, pointedly ignoring Vegeta’s questioning looks, resolved to act as if nothing had happened.

Shaking her head free of the memory, she walked back to her bed, and her eyes strayed to her phone on her desk. She unlocked it, and was not surprised to find that she had not received a single call or text from him that night.

Vegeta usually texted her before he went to bed.

Bulma realized that perhaps, she had finally pushed him too far.

She should have been happy. Wasn’t this what she wanted? For him to leave her alone… for them to have nothing more than a good business relationship…

Her treacherous fingers swiped across her screen, tapping out a message to him, and her finger hovered stupidly over the  _send_  button for several minutes….

She clicked  _send._

In the message, were only two words:

_I’m sorry._

.

8-8-8-8-8

_._

_To be continued…_


	4. Tactics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma fears that, with her actions, she may have finally pushed Vegeta away. She should be happy… but she isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I left you all with such a mean little cliffy last time, so I hope to make it up to you all with this chapter.  
> Feedback will be greatly appreciated!

 

Five days. 

It had been five days since Bulma, chest heavy with unnamed emotions, fled Vegeta’s office in the early morning hours… Ran from the comfort of his gentle arms, and into the turbulent grip of the doubts rioting within her mind. 

Five days since the afternoon that he looked up at her through exhausted, unreadable eyes… 

“ _I’m tired_.” He had said.

It had been five days since he turned away from her in the parking lot…

Five days since he had last called her by her first name. 

His behavior towards her had become completely cold, even more impersonal than the way it was when she had just joined Ouji Ent.

It was like the past month between them didn’t happen. As if they had not gotten closer, never gotten to know each other so intimately. 

It was like dealing with a different person, entirely. 

They had at least engaged in teasing banter and squabbles before… but he was now achingly formal and, dare she say, _polite_. 

Bulma knew that she should be relieved. Logically, it was for the best: they now had a perfect professional relationship. 

She was there to work. They should not waste their time indulging in such improper dalliances when it was so wrong of them to do so. 

Wasn’t this what she wanted? For him to stop insisting on her to stay with him because he _wanted_ her? 

Her desk phone rang, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked down to check her caller ID. It was _him_. 

“Yes, Ouji-san?” she answered as she picked up. 

“Please send an email to the HR team to remind them of tomorrow’s function. We all need to be in the seminar hall before ten in the morning.”

“Yes sir,” she said, opening up a new email to begin typing. 

“You will accompany us there. Coordinate with Raditz-san so he can take you there with him, from here. I will go to the venue directly from home.”

“Anything else?” she asked, one hand typing as the other held the phone to her ear. 

“No. That is all, Bulma-san,” he said, dropping the call. 

The dial tone rang hollowly in her ear for a few seconds, before she gathered her wits and placed the phone back in its cradle. 

She did not anticipate the pain that lanced through her chest every time he called her _Bulma-san_. 

He had never replied to her last text message. 

Perhaps, neither of them even understood what she was saying sorry for. 

8-8-8-8-8 

It was nine in the morning, an hour before the conference, and Bulma was struggling. 

She hated makeup. 

Well, not _all_ makeup. She was fine with powder, lip stick, maybe a bit of eyeliner. 

But all those… creams… in different shades and confusing consistencies that were supposed to “hide imperfections and define facial contours” were the stuff of nightmares. 

She mainly detested the fact that she had to use one of the lighter colored ones to cover up the astoundingly prominent bags around her eyes. 

She needed to, if she wanted to look presentable. 

She had gotten next to no sleep the night before, and the few minutes she did manage to fall asleep, were plagued by dreams of exhausted obsidian eyes and unintelligible whispers in the dark. 

Her cellphone rang, and she picked it up with a huff. “Hello?” 

“Hello Bulma-san,” Raditz’s deep voice boomed from the other line. “You about ready? Can we leave in ten minutes?”

Bulma sighed as she looked at the concealer in her hand. She closed the cap in defeat as she answered. “Yes, I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

Ten minutes later, Bulma was double checking the contents of her shoulder bag and distractedly smoothing down her rose-colored knee-length dress when Raditz jogged up. 

His untamable long black hair was in a low ponytail at his nape, and he wore his dark brown suit with an auburn tie in a casually jaunty fashion. 

She could totally see why the girls down in Billing swooned over the tall, muscular man. 

“Ready to go, Bulma-san?” he asked. 

“Yes. Thank you, Raditz-san,” she said, when a thought struck her and she looked around in confusion. 

“Raditz-san,” she called as they got into his large, white SUV. “Where is Goku?”

“School. He’s got finals today,” Raditz said as he backed out of his parking space and began to drive out of the building garage. “He’s pretty bummed to miss out on the conference food.”

Bulma blinked. “He’s in university?”

“Yep. Community college, night school. But he had to go there during regular hours today coz of finals,” Raditz answered as he sped out of the building and onto the street. 

Bulma double checked her seatbelt. 

She was surprised. She thought Goku was just earning hours for work experience. “You pay for his tuition, Raditz-san?” 

“Hell no,” he shook his head, his shaggy bangs flying around his face. “I make a good enough salary to feed us both and to pay for rent and his books, but not enough to send my brother to college too. Goku uses his money from Ouji.”

This confused Bulma, because as far as she knew, Goku was an unpaid intern, and she said as much to Raditz. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t get a salary, but Vegeta sends him to school. Money from his own pocket,” was his unexpected answer. Raditz glanced at her, and something on her face must have seemed funny to him because he burst out laughing. 

“Lemme tell ya, when Vegeta met Goku, first thing he said was that Goku’s too dumb to survive life without a college education. So yeah he’s an unpaid intern, but Vegeta gives him money, off the books. That’s the special check that Launch picks up from him every month.”

Bulma was starting to understand Goku’s strangely friendly relationship with her boss now, but she was also disconcerted by Raditz’ familiar way of addressing Vegeta, which he had never done in front of her before. 

Raditz appeared unfazed as he kept talking. “I owe him a lot, ya know. He met me when I was working as a bouncer, my senior year of college. There was this punk manhandling a girl and he was giving me a hard time. Vegeta was at the bar, but he stepped in – you know that he’s a black belter in Aikido, right? – and he helped me kick the guy’s ass out.”

He made sharp turn that made Bulma grip her bag tighter. “We started talking and then he gave me his number and he told me to call if I needed a job after I graduate. I did, though to be honest, I thought he was just messing with me. Imagine my shock when he was actually a high-ranking executive. I seriously thought he just happened to have the same last name as the company’s owner. He hired me for an entry-level job, on the spot, after an interview. I worked my way up, but I never could have gotten a good start without him. I still don’t understand why he did it.”

Raditz made another wild turn at a yellow light, and Bulma looked up, relief flooding her as she saw the building where their conference was to take place in the near distance. 

As much as she enjoyed the conversation, she was really looking forward to getting away from Raditz and his manic driving, as soon as fucking possible. 

8-8-8-8-8 

Bulma sat stiffly in her chair, forcing herself to concentrate on the conference speakers. 

Why, oh why, did she have to be seated next to Vegeta? 

The seating was pre-arranged, and her boss sat relaxed beside her, seemingly oblivious to her internal struggle. 

It seemed to her that it had been forever since she had been this close to him, and every single thing about him was driving her mad. 

He was wearing a dark blue suit with a white shirt, a dark gold tie knotted perfectly at his collar. He had his glasses on again, perched perfectly against his nose, framing his intense dark eyes. 

He had sprayed some perfume on, and the manly, earthy scent wreaked havoc on her senses every time he moved and she caught a whiff of the delicious scent. 

But most devastatingly of all was that sexy, amused half-smile that he sported the entire day, as he had to keep his sociable mask on for the duration of the conference. 

Bulma was near tears. It was too much. 

As the conference was called to an end, she fled her seat as if it had been on fire, going straight to Raditz so he can take them back to the office. 

“Shall we go?” she asked, wincing internally as she heard her voice and how overeager she sounded. 

The tall man had turned to her, mouth open to reply, when his gaze flew right through her to look curiously at something behind her. 

“I will take her back, Raditz-san,” Vegeta’s voice sounded, and Bulma whipped around to see her boss standing right behind her, giving her an unreadable look. He then turned to Raditz. “I believe that Launch-san needs a ride, take her back with you instead.”

Raditz grinned widely at those words, nodding lightly before turning to search for the blond in question. 

“Shall we, Bulma-san?” Vegeta asked, and Bulma, puzzled, nodded and followed him. 

They headed for his car, a pearl white SUV, and she went and sat on the passenger seat as soon as the door was unlocked. 

She sat stiffly, staring ahead, as Vegeta got into the driver’s side. He took off his glasses and stuck them into the glove compartment, started the car motor, then slowly eased out of parking, driving strangely carefully and merging onto traffic. 

They sat silent, him driving, and her sitting still as a statue beside him. 

She had planned to remain silent all throughout the ride, but she started when she realized that Vegeta had taken a wrong turn. 

“Umm… I think we were supposed to go that way?” she asked, pointing behind them, in the opposite direction of where they had gone. 

“Why do you think that?” 

“Well… because,” she hesitated at the sight of his twitching lips. “Isn’t the office that way?”

“Yes it is.” 

She blinked at that. “Then why aren’t we going that way?”

“Because we are not going to the office, Bulma.”

Her eyes widened, nearly popping out of their sockets, while her heart suddenly started beating a maddening rhythm against her ribcage. 

He had called her Bulma. 

“Whe- where are we going, Vegeta-san?” she asked cautiously, not quite sure if she should use his first name as well. 

“We are going to WacDonald’s,” he answered, and she heard the note of irritation in his voice. “Because those ridiculous tiny bits of bread and ham on toothpicks that we had at the conference are not enough to feed a mouse. I don’t know about you, woman, but I am starving.”

She laughed, a hand flying up to her cheek as the snickers kept bursting from her lips. 

He glanced at her, a small grin stretching his lips while she kept giggling. 

They went to the drive thru, where Vegeta proceeded to order an inordinately large quantity of food that Bulma was sure would have been enough to feed at least five people. 

After they had their order, Vegeta wordlessly threw everything into the back seat before he started driving once again.

Bulma recognized the direction they were going, but wasn’t quite sure why. 

That was, until she saw a familiar tall, glass and white concrete building up ahead, and she turned to Vegeta, eyebrows raised nearly up to her hairline. 

“Your condo?” she asked. 

He simply nodded, not taking his eyes from the road. 

She had been there, once. 

The night before the incident in his office. 

She could still remember… 

The way he held her against the wall, powerful hands gripping her buttocks as he thrust into her forcefully, making her cry out as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through her every vein…

How he had taken her on the floor of the living room, the soft carpet feeling like clouds caressing her skin… 

She tried to control the blush that threatened to blossom on her face as she stared at him, mouth agape. 

“ _What… why is he taking me there again_?” she thought, bewildered.

“Do not worry, I am taking us there just to eat. You perhaps remember that while I do like fast food, I would never sit in a fast food restaurant,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. 

She blinked, then turned her gaze away from him to fix her eyes up ahead, pointedly watching the road as she gathered her thoughts.

They were just going to eat. 

He wasn’t gonna eat _her_. 

She furiously shouted at her subconscious to _fucking stop it_.

They drove up to the high-rise, going through the security to head into the parking level. 

They parked, and he wordlessly got out and started gathering up the bags of food. 

“Hey, gimme some of those bags, I can help,” she said, sliding out of her seat, shoulder bag slung onto her elbow. She started picking up some of the bags of fries while Vegeta held on to the drinks and burgers. 

They headed for the elevator, and Bulma noticed Vegeta give her a small glance out of the corner of his eye, a small grin tugging at his lips once again. 

She smiled at him as they walked, and Bulma couldn’t help but think about how this all felt so natural. 

She was walking with Vegeta to his apartment, their arms full of food, and she realized that in her mind's eye, she could see them doing this sort of thing daily. 

In that moment, she could see them walking together with groceries, him smirking at her as she sputtered about something he said. They would lay their things down onto the counters as they entered their home, and she would start arranging their things into their proper places while he plopped down on the couch and just snickered at her continuous bitching. 

He would then walk over, scoop her into his arms… 

She stopped daydreaming as they entered the elevator, and both remained silent as the lift brought them up to his flat on the 24th floor. 

Bulma couldn’t even look at him as she wondered why it was so easy for her to imagine such a simple future with him by her side.

A voice inside her head whispered that she shouldn’t even wonder anymore… because she already knew… 

The elevator opened up, and they both walked silently to his flat. Vegeta had the key card ready in his hand, and he swiped it at the doorway to let them both in. 

The door swung open to reveal the impressive condo unit. The living room greeted them, its dark grey couch set and low glass table set upon a thick, pristine white carpet. A large balcony was behind a glass sliding door, and she could see the small seating area that overlooked the view of the entire city. 

Beyond the other side of the living room was the dining area, and a frosted glass wall that concealed a fully furnished kitchen that Vegeta never used. 

A narrow staircase on the side led up to a loft area that looked out over the living room, and a thin wall on that smaller floor concealed his bedroom and en suite bathroom. 

The memories of what he had done with her in nearly every room in that condo assaulted her, and she very nearly had to bite back a moan as she felt the stirrings of heat begin from her core. 

His voice broke her out of her reverie. 

“Wanna eat in the living room or the dining room?” he asked, impatiently tapping his foot as he tilted his head at the food in their arms. 

“Umm… the dining room?” she said, knowing she won’t be able to sit still in the living room as the visions of his beautiful body moving over hers on that couch and that damn white carpet were still flooding her head. 

They brought their bags onto the dining table, and he gave her a small, mischievous smirk as he put his bags onto the tabletop.

As she looked at his slightly gleeful eyes, she realized that the dining room wasn’t exactly a safe spot from her memories, either.

_He smirked at her as he laid her down on the table, the thick glass shocking her as the cold seeped into her body. She arched away from the biting temperature of the tabletop, but he was right there, holding her flat against the glass with a hand on her chest._

_“Cold?” he asked, a wicked smirk on his lips as he moved to stand over her, clutching her tight with a hand on each of her thighs._

_“Vegeta,” she whimpered, but in response, he simply knelt down, until only the top of his dark-haired head was visible to her. He was between her legs, kneading at her flesh, and suddenly, his hot breath was close to her core, quick puffs of air raising goosebumps throughout her body._

_“I guess it is only fitting that I brought you here to the dining area,” he whispered, so close to her flesh that she swore she could feel his lips brushing against her nether lips. “Just look at this glorious feast.”_

_She gasped, a scant second before she felt his lips touch her core, tongue licking her from the very bottom of her slit to the engorged nub above her entrance._

_Bulma released a hoarse shout, bucking against him as he kept licking her, relentlessly devouring her –_

“Bulma?” he said, and she snapped out of her lascivious memory, flinging her sight to him, only to find him grinning widely. “Are you alright? You look flushed.”

“Yes!” she squeaked. “I’m ok!”

He began unpacking the items, putting a double cheeseburger, a large pack of fries, and a large cup of cola before her. He brought the rest of the food over to his side, sat down, and began to eat.

She watched as he took large bites, and she could see that he really _was_ hungry. His eyes had closed in bliss as he bit into his burger, and he slurped noisily at his soda before stuffing half a fistful of fries into his mouth.

He was eating like a bear, and she hid a grin behind her burger as she sat down on the chair across from him, then took her first bite.

When he had eaten through half of his food, he began to slow down, chewing more carefully. He then turned thoughtful eyes in her direction, and his brows knitted on his forehead, as if he was puzzling something out.

She felt a little conscious under his stare, so she decided to ask him something that had been nagging at her since the conference.

“So… Raditz-san told me how you met,” she said, wrapping up the remainder of her burger and placing it down so she can pick on her fries. “What you did for him… and what you are doing for Goku-kun… that was really nice of you.”

Vegeta huffed. “So he told you about Kakarot as well.”

“Why do you call him Kakarot anyway?” she asked. “Seriously, no one calls him that. Even Raditz-san calls him Goku.”

“Because that is his name, the one on his birth certificate,” he said, before taking another bite of a newly unwrapped burger.

“May I just ask… why? I mean, for Raditz and Goku. Why did you help them so much?”

He swallowed, took a drink of soda, before he turned to her, face serious. “Because I saw in Raditz, what I could have been like if I had not been raised in privilege. He was a smart man trying to gain a good future by using his physical strength to pad him over until he completed his education. If I wasn’t born rich, that bouncer could have been me.”

Bulma took that in, her heart swelling with affection for this wonderful, amazing man sitting before her.

“As for Kakarot,” he continued, “The boy is an idiot. He would starve out on the streets if he doesn’t gain a bachelors’ degree. Raditz, at least, has a brain.”

Bulma sniggered. Goku was a darling… But genius, he was not.

“He also reminded me of Tarble. Kakarot idolizes his older brother as much as Tarble looks up to me.”

Bulma thought of Tarble, Ouji Ent’s regional General Manager. He was a lovely man, but was clearly not up to Vegeta’s level. He was even shorter in stature, and Vegeta wasn’t exactly _tall_.

“You and Ouji-sama certainly have a knack for hiring interesting people,” she grinned, remembering the crazy characters in the HR Department.

“Absolutely,” he nodded. “After all, I kept _you_ , didn’t I?”

Both laughed at that, and Bulma felt her chest lighten at the easy banter that she had missed severely for the past few days.

“Yeah, I still don’t understand it,” she answered, crossing her legs as she leaned back on her chair. “We were always at each other’s throats for my first month. I don’t know why you didn’t fire me.”

Vegeta just smirked. “Didn’t you say so yourself, on your first day? I am a smart and tactical man, and it would be neither smart nor tactical to not have you around.”

She was about to respond with snark when he held a hand up to pause her words.

“I kept you around because you are as brilliant as my father said you were. And I respect that you left your own comfortable life to try to build an identity outside of Capsule Corp. You do what you want, and you are exceptional, Bulma. Should you decide not to run your family’s company, you will still make it far. I know you will.”

Her heart burst at his words. His confidence in her felt so good, and she swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.

“Vegeta, thank you,” she said softly. “I really appreciate that.”

“I will admit though,” he said, also leaning back on his chair. “That another reason why I kept you on was because I realized that I want you, _Bulma_.”

His gaze on her suddenly changed, switching into a heated look that had the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as a shiver went down her spine.

Bulma stuttered, “You… what?”

“You heard me,” he said, an unreadable gleam in his eyes. “I _still_ want you. Before that party, I had already been planning on telling you. However, I made a miscalculation.”

She sucked in a breath as he stood, moving to sit on a chair closer to her. He reached down and pulled one of her hands up, cradling it between his large hands.

He spoke in a near whisper, his voice hoarse and hard. “That night after the party was not supposed to happen. I moved too fast. And I think… I think that is where it all went wrong.”

Bulma was confused. “But… this past week? You were so distant. I thought… I thought…”

“I was trying to distance myself from you. To see if perhaps I could find a way to start this all over again.”

She curled her fingers around his.

“I suppose,” he went on, “I was also trying to see if my ignoring you would have the same effect on you, as your indifference had towards me.”

She frowned at this, indignation filling her chest. “What? Were you just testing me, then?”

“A little,” he grinned, tightening his grip on her hand as she tried to pull away. “But it was my way of finding out if what I think there is between us is really _there_ , and not just a figment of my imagination.”

“And what conclusion did you come up with?” she asked, maintaining her offended stance, but inside, she was rejoicing.

He didn’t hate her! He had been a jerk, but he didn’t hate her!

She was bursting with joy, and she still couldn’t quite grasp exactly why, but the thought of him still wanting her filled her with such inexplicable happiness.

“I still want you, Bulma,” he said, leaning forward on his chair, his body reaching for her as she too straightened unconsciously to meet him. “I know that you are not opposed to having me. I want us to see where this could go. We clearly desire each other, but there is something more and I want to understand it, too.”

“Vegeta…” she murmured.

“How about a movie?” he suddenly said, before he stood up and pulled her up with him.

She stood, slightly dazed by his sudden turnaround, and he led them to the living room before he nudged her to sit on the couch.

“Shouldn’t we go back to work? The management would be pissed if they knew we were ditching,” she said with a cheeky grin when he simply walked over to the table to pick up the remote, turning the television on before he plopped down beside her.

“I _am_ the management,” he said smugly. “Now, I have several stations on this thing that I never view. Do you have any idea where the good movies are?”

They sat on the couch and channel-surfed for hours, and before either knew it, it was late in the evening. They had eaten through all of the food they bought, and were laying back on the couch, still in their office clothes but wrapped snugly within each others’ arms.

Bulma looked at her watch, surprised at how long they had been there just watching television and arguing over the merits of sci-fi versus action films.

She glanced beside her, gazing at Vegeta. The shadows of the room played across the chiseled angles of his face while he watched the screen intently.

 “Vegeta,” she began, regret washing over her. “It’s late. I should go.”

His arm around her shoulders tightened.

“Stay,” he said, and Bulma remembered how he always asked her of the same thing, each night they had shared together.

_Stay._

She had never stayed, before.

“My car is in the office parking lot,” she said.

“You can retrieve it tomorrow,” he answered, not looking at her, determinedly keeping his eyes on the television. “Sleep here. I have a shirt and some shorts you can borrow. Gure, Tarble’s wife, left some of the clothes she bought from the mall the last time they came to visit. You two are the same size, you can wear those to work tomorrow.”

“Vegeta, I-”

“Bulma,” he said sternly, finally turning to face her. “I’m not ready to part with you yet.”

She melted at the look in his eyes… he looked so fierce, but the light in his eyes were so gentle…

“We can sleep in my bedroom. And I promise you, I will not try to seduce you tonight,” he said, and she would have laughed at his words had his face not been so serious.

She looked deep into his eyes, trying to find the answers in the mesmerizing pools of ebony.

His lips quirked up, a boyish look that seemed so out of place in the current situation.

And she finally decided.

“Alright,” she agreed. “I will stay. I promise.”

The happiness that filled his eyes almost blinded her, even if his lips stubbornly maintained nothing more than his usual smirk.

He turned the TV off, then stood up, pulling her with him. He grasped her hand, then led her up to the loft bedroom, where he casually kicked his door open before he let go of her and pushed her in the direction of his bathroom.

“Go take your shower,” he instructed. “There is a set of female toiletries on one side of the counter, along with a pink toothbrush. Use those. I will get some clothes for you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Why do you have female toiletries in your bathroom?”

“I bought them for you, of course,” he responded, turning away to rummage through his closets.

Bulma sputtered in disbelief. “You… you… you _planned_ this all, didn’t you?!”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “I am a smart and tactical man, Bulma.”

She huffed, turned to walk into the bathroom, and heard him call after her.

“There is a pink towel hanging behind the door, that’s yours.”

She took a shower, grinning madly to herself the entire time.

When she emerged from the shower with her pink towel wrapped securely around her, she found Vegeta standing by the glass wall on the other side of the room, staring off into the distance. One of his hands was clenched into a loose fist near his face, and she could make out something small and shiny peeking out from between his fingers.

“Vegeta?” she called out.

He glanced at her, then back at his hand.

A determined look entered his eyes as he turned to gaze back to her, before he started walking towards her.

She kept her eyes on his face, her brows knotted as she tried to figure out why he was looking at her like he was about to go into war.

“Bulma,” he began as he reached her. “I want to give you something. And I want you to accept it. You don’t have to use it, but keep it with you. Is that alright?”

She blinked at his serious tone, at his eyes that were anxiously looking into her own.

“Ok,” she said. “What is it?”

He then brought his clenched palm forward, bringing it up close to her chest.

He unfurled his fingers, and Bulma gasped.

On his palm was an exquisite, intricate golden necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a crescent moon, with deep, swirling patterns carved into it. The chain was short and delicate, gently curling around his long fingers.

His other hand picked up the strand of the necklace, and he held it up to her with both hands.

Bulma was blown away. The gorgeous piece of jewelry was obviously expensive, and this part was easy for a rich man like Vegeta.

However, she couldn’t help but feel like his giving her a necklace, _this_ necklace, was momentous.

“Vegeta, it’s so beautiful,” she said, lifting a hand to stroke the filigree on the pendant.

“As I said… I want you to take this. And I want you to keep it,” he said softly.

She couldn’t say no.

She nodded, taking the necklace into her palm.

“I will treasure this, Vegeta. I really will.”

He nodded, gave her a small smile, before he turned away from her to use the shower.

She stared at the door behind which Vegeta had gone, as she clutched the necklace within her palm.

She looked down, and on the bed, she found that he had laid out a simple white shirt and a clean pair of shorts. She placed the necklace down while she dressed, then she picked it up again and contemplated…

She went up to Vegeta’s cabinet, where she knew there was a small mirror.

Taking a deep breath, she hooked the necklace around her neck, then stood back to stare at it as it glinted beautifully against the base of her throat.

She was still looking at it when Vegeta emerged from the bathroom, wearing simple cotton pants, similar to the ones he had on back in the hotel that first night.

His gaze locked on hers, before the glint of the necklace caught his eye. He looked at the necklace she now wore, his eyes softening as he watched her wear his gift.

Wordlessly, Bulma moved to lay on the bed, staying on one side. She lifted the comforter, then, smiled shyly at Vegeta.

He approached the bed, then pulled the blankets back to lay down as well.

Still without saying a word, he reached for her, and Bulma allowed him to pull her close to him. She snuggled tightly against his hard chest, humming contentedly when she felt one of his hands tangle in her hair, the other, staying tight around her waist.

She listened to the sound of his heartbeat, a strong and steady rhythm that wrapped her in a cocoon of comfort and security.

She realized again, how safe she felt in his arms. How wonderfully sheltered she was, how she felt like nothing in the world can harm her for as long as he held her like this… like she was the only thing that mattered to him in the world.

And as she heard his breathing even out as he slipped into slumber, she finally understood…

Why she felt like the world fell away whenever he held her.

Why she felt powerful when he touched her with his innocent, soft caresses.

Why she felt like the most desirable woman in the universe when he stroked her with such insatiable lust in his dark eyes.

She was never going to be able to stay away from him.

She didn’t care anymore, how bad it would look to everyone else if she stayed with him.

They could talk about them all day, if they wanted.

Because everything in her, everything she was, longed to be with him. Needed to be with him.

She finally _understood_.

Bulma had fallen, desperately and madly in love, with Vegeta.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	5. Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta make up for lost time, beginning to forge bonds to strengthen the links that they have formed with each other. It all seems to be going well, but if there is anything Bulma knows for sure, it’s that nothing in life is ever this simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I was struck down with a terrible flu for the past couple of days, so I wasn’t able to finish this as early as I had hoped. Also, I had to make an adjustment to my outline so I had to analyze my plot all over again. I have a tendency to over-analyze, hehe.  
> On with the story! As always, your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

 

The bright sunlight streamed into the room through its wide glass walls, and Bulma stirred when a beam of light hit her eyelids.

She blearily opened an eye, rubbing at the other one while she tried to see around her.

Why did everything seem a bit… _off_?

Coffee. She needed coffee.

She was about to get up when she realized that her torso was trapped within something firm, wrapped securely around her body, holding her tight against a barrier at her back.

She startled herself fully awake, taking in her vaguely familiar surroundings, a hand clutching at the thing that kept her caged…

Only for her eyes to soften at the sight of thick, muscular arms wrapped snugly around her, and large, lightly calloused hands splayed against her stomach.

The events of the night before rushed back to her, and she smiled to herself as she remembered where she was.

She was with Vegeta.

She had stayed with him that night.

And true to his word, he did not make a move on her; he didn’t even kiss her.

However… the way he possessively held her now, with his strong body spooned delightfully against her back, spoke volumes more than any previous kiss or lustful touch they had ever shared.

He had held her through the night…

This was all so new to Bulma. She had never woken up in such a way, entangled affectionately within a lover’s grasp.

Affection. _Lover_.

Her heart fell so full, and she was bursting from so many emotions, both old and unfamiliar, that she couldn’t even understand which one she should hold on to and analyze first.

It was all so overwhelming, and a large part of her was frightened at what was happening, causing her limbs to itch with the desire to run away.

An even larger part of her though… wanted to relish in this feeling, to luxuriate in the sensations of his hard body pressed against hers in such an innocent way.

He had said that he _wanted_ her.

And yet, the way he held her so lovingly against him made her think that perhaps, there was more to this than just sex.

It made her hope that he _needed_ her, as well.

She shifted, wanting to turn around so she could look into his sleeping face.

His arms remained tight around her, but gave slightly as she moved, until she was gazing at his closed eyes.

He was so beautiful.

His face was relaxed in his slumber, the usual lines of worry gone from between his brows.

She raised a hand to trace the contours of his face, the angular curve of his jaw, and she giggled softly when he tried to nuzzle into her palm.

“Bulma,” he whispered against her skin as he roused, and she looked up as his eyes opened slowly, the dark orbs piercing into her even in their half-awake state.

“Hey,” she said, fully cupping his cheek in her hand, fingers caressing his skin.

He inhaled deeply, arms twitching as he tried to stretch without untangling himself from her.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Bulma looked around, then spotted a clock on his dresser. “Six fifteen.”

He pouted slightly, and Bulma melted at the sight of such a petulant, boyish expression on his face.

“We have to get up, don’t we?” he muttered.

She nodded.

Vegeta tightened his arms around her for a moment, before he very reluctantly released her, using an arm to push himself up into a sitting position.

“Do you suppose they will notice if we both took a sick day today?” he asked, a teasing grin lifting the corners of his lips.

She giggled, turning over to lay on her stomach, bracing herself up on her elbows. One hand lay flat against the soft sheets, the other supporting her chin as she turned her head and looked up at him.

“I’m pretty sure they will,” she said. She smiled fondly at him as he fidgeted, eyes pinched closed as he raised his arms to stretch his limbs. He rolled his shoulders with a slight grunt, before he opened his eyes and turned to look at her again.

Vegeta went still, staring at her motionlessly for a few seconds before he reached down with one hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

He hunched down, bringing his face down to hers.

“Woman,” he said, and Bulma was surprised by the slightly breathy tone. “If you keep looking at me like that, I promise you, we won’t get to leave this bed.”

She sucked in a breath as she saw the desire that entered his eyes then, and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks as his closeness brought her memories of what they had done the last time they had been on this bed.

Vegeta closed his eyes with a small huff, before he moved his hand so his fingers cupped her chin, tilting her face up.

He leaned down, and placed an achingly chaste kiss on her lips.

Bulma closed her eyes, ready to kiss him back more deeply, but he pulled away, and she both heard and felt his sigh of regret as his breaths blew softly on her cheeks.

“I’m gonna go take a shower now,” he said softly. “You can go after, alright?”

She nodded, and watched as he stood up, the muscles of his back moving smoothly as he walked to the adjoining bathroom.

Her heart beat loudly against her chest as he disappeared through the door, her mind playing naughty images of his naked body as she imagined what he must look like in the shower right then.

8-8-8-8-8

Vegeta was in another one of his long meetings with potential investors, and Bulma was at her desk, fielding off both people and incoming phone calls.

She knew how much he hated getting interrupted during negotiations, and she also knew that this particular meeting with Dragon Inc. was huge.

She was currently pounding numbers at her computer, making sure that all their figures were accurate since Shenlong-sama of Dragon Inc. was very particular with even tiny denominations.

Vegeta had actually called in Nappa-san, their Chief Financial Officer, along with Tarble-san, the GM, to help him with all the numbers in their discussions.

She wasn’t very fond of Nappa-san. He was large, bald, and looked more like an MMA fighter than a CFO with a PhD in Accounting. The way his beady eyes looked down at her due to his monstrous height made it seem like he was constantly looking down her shirt.

She raised a hand to her chest to tug self-consciously at her blouse.

It really _was_ too tight.

Vegeta had told her that she would fit into Tarble’s wife’s clothing, and while he had been right in that they were both roughly the same size, it seems that Bulma was a little more voluptuous.

He had leered at her when she finished dressing up, lustfully eyeing her breasts and butt that were practically molded to her clothes.

_“Perhaps I should let Gure do the shopping for you from now on.”_

Pervert.

She blushed as she scooted off her chair a little, grabbing at the skirt’s hem to pull it as low as it could go.

Footsteps, light and slow, sounded down the hall, and Bulma looked up from her computer to see who had come.

“Hello, Bulma-san,” a soft voice greeted as Bulma herself smiled widely.

“Gure-san!” she greeted. “How are you?”

They had met twice, once at work and once at the office party, and Bulma found that she rather liked the shy, tiny woman.

Gure smiled, her dark purple eyes bright against her very pale, round face. Her long lilac hair was straight, some strands curling around her face and splaying across her chest. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a violet crop top, an A4 binder on one arm and a backpack slung over the other.

They were the same age, but Bulma knew that Gure was still in university, having taken a gap year when she married Tarble at nineteen, two years earlier.

“I have finals, and I am exhausted!” she replied, an adorable scowl adorning her face. “My last exam is this afternoon, so I thought I’d drop by to see Tarble first. They told me he was here.”

“Yes, he is with Ouji-san,” Bulma motioned to a nearby chair, which the smaller girl promptly sat on.

Gure tilted her head slightly as she regarded her, and Bulma stiffened slightly as she hoped against hope that the wife of her lover’s brother didn’t recognize the attire she had on as something _she_ had bought.

“I love your blouse, Bulma-san,” she said finally, and Bulma cringed internally. “I think I have one similar to that, not super sure.”

“Ah well,” Bulma plastered a fake smile on her face as she replied. “I do like _your_ top, it is so cute!”

Gure looked down at her top with a smile, flipping some of her hair off to the side to better show it off. “Thanks! Tarble picked it out!”

Bulma was about to say something else when she noticed a very familiar accessory on Gure’s chest.

It was previously obscured by her hair, but after Gure pushed the strands back, Bulma clearly saw it, and she had to blink her eyes in disbelief.

The beautifully-intricate pendant in the shape of a crescent moon hung from a delicate chain around Gure’s slim neck. The necklace glittered merrily, taunting her with its familiarity as she immediately recognized it as an exact duplicate of the necklace that Vegeta had given her the night before, except it was in white gold instead of yellow gold, like hers.

It was an exact copy of Vegeta’s gift.

The same gift that Bulma was still wearing against her throat.

In her surprise, Bulma’s hands flew up to touch her necklace, and the sudden action brought Gure’s eyes to her hand.

“Oh!” Gure said, eyes wide as she suddenly stood up and quickly walked to Bulma, peering curiously at her gold jewelry.

“Bulma-san, is this from Vegeta-san?” Gure asked, but Bulma could tell that the other girl already knew the answer, if the surprised look in her eyes was any indication.

“Um… yes. He gave it to me recently,” she responded, self-consciously tucking her hair behind her ears as Gure’s eyes widened even more.

“I see! Bulma-san, I had no idea! I am very happy!”

Bulma furrowed her brows at Gure’s exclamation.

“Tarble gave me this,” Gure said, gesturing at her own necklace, “the day before our wedding. I am surprised because he always said that Vegeta-san… wait, does Tarble know?” the small girl asked, grabbing Bulma’s hands in her own, in a grip far stronger than her tiny form could have led credence to.

“Do I know what?”

The younger Ouji son’s voice startled Bulma, and both she and Gure turned to face the man who was smiling amusedly as he walked towards them from Vegeta’s office. The door had been left ajar, and Bulma glimpsed Vegeta sitting beside Nappa on the couch, facing the tall, green-haired Shenlong-sama.

Tarble was wearing a simple white suit, hands casually swaying with his movements. His dark hair had that distinctive volume that was unmistakably Ouji, dark and flame-shaped atop a thin face framed by a widow’s peak that sat above severe, dark eyes.

“Tarble!” Gure shrilled, abruptly letting go of Bulma to run animatedly to her husband.

As soon as Gure reached him, she pulled the slight man towards Bulma, pointing excitedly at her throat.

Tarble glanced questioningly at Bulma for a second, before her necklace seemingly caught his attention as well.

Bulma watched as he opened his mouth, gaping wordlessly as he seemed to struggle to speak.

“What? What is it?” Bulma asked, now very concerned. Her hand flew up to cover her chest, the pendant cool against her fingers as she touched it confusedly.

Tarble’s brows furrowed, and he took a deep breath. “Bulma-san-”

Her phone rang, cutting off whatever Tarble was about to say.

“Ouji Enterprises, CEO Office, good morning,” she answered the phone, still looking distractedly at the couple before her.

“Bulma-san,” Vegeta’s voice spoke into the line, pulling her gaze to the still open office a few meters behind Tarble. “Could you come in for a minute?”

“Y-yes,” she stuttered, dropping the line before she excused herself from her guests to see her boss.

She went in, and he introduced her formally to Shenlong-sama before he asked her to bring them copies of a certain report that she had finished one week earlier.

She returned to her table, eager to continue her conversation with Tarble and Gure, but she was disappointed to find that they were gone.

8-8-8-8-8

The days passed quickly after the night they spent in Vegeta’s condo, and Bulma had decided that asking Vegeta about the necklace could wait.

She had taken it off and placed it in a special slot inside her jewelry box, afraid to wear it to work daily lest she lose it or have it attract unwarranted attention.

Other than the strange conversation with Gure and Tarble, since that night, Bulma had been so ridiculously happy that she didn’t want to do anything, ask Vegeta for anything, that could put a damper on what they had going.

She absolutely avoided bringing up anything that could cause a stir, because this thing between them, whatever it was, was absolutely wonderful, and Bulma decided that for once, she would stop thinking so much and just go with the flow.

They would spend their days as boss and assistant, professionals at work, their careful masks of polite corporate camaraderie in place whenever they were in the company of other people.

However, whenever they were alone, Vegeta would do things that would send untold thrills coursing through her heart, even though they had not done anything sexual at all since that night.

His teasing grin as he sat with her at their favorite coffee shop during their work breaks, stealing bites of her muffin or small sips of her mochaccino…

The way he stroked the back of her hand with his long fingers as he held her, curled up in his lap while watching television in his flat after work hours…

How he pulled her to him, the raw strength of his arms around her at odds with the way he gently nuzzled her cheek…

The amazing way he kissed her with such passion, his lips coaxing her mouth to have a taste of his intentions as his fingers grasped longingly at her waist and tangled adoringly in her hair.

Bulma realized that Vegeta was trying to make up for how they had rushed into bed by taking things gently and beautifully slowly now.

They had still yet to put a label on what they were, but now Bulma knew with perfect certainty that she had truly fallen hard for this man.

She was too hesitant to change things, to put a pause on this wonderful thing they had now, to ask him how he really felt about her.

He never spoke about it, but Bulma felt his affection for her with his every touch, every gentle kiss.

She was also terrified that something would happen to break their spell, that he would suddenly stop coming to her, or that her own issues would come rushing back to her and end everything.

She was afraid that all of it was too perfect, that it was too good to be real.

It was the last day of the work week, and Bulma was excited for the weekend, because Vegeta had dropped hints that he wanted to do something special with her over the next two days.

Her suspicions were confirmed when, a few minutes before they were set to leave work, he called her into his office and greeted her with a very mischievous grin.

“Bulma,” he began as the door closed behind her, and she started walking towards him. “Do you have any plans for the weekend?”

She smiled brightly at him as she came up to him, going around his large desk and lifting herself up to sit on the edge of his desk before him.

His hands went to her waist as she sat up, legs swinging slightly as he moved his chair so he was pressed close to her.

“I was planning to stay at home and eat ice cream out of the carton,” she grinned cheekily at him as her own hands rested on his.

“That sounds like a horrible plan,” he said, squeezing her lightly and making her giggle. “I have a better one.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” his eyes brightened. “Let’s go on a trip. I have a small cabin about an hour’s drive off the edge of the main city. It’s near the South-West border. I can get the caretakers to prepare it so we can use it for the next two days.”

“Sounds good to me!” she enthused, hands going up to cup his cheeks. “A weekend with Ouji-san!”

He cackled even as he leaned up to plant a small kiss on her lips. “I know I am not a very _fun_ person, but I shall strive to make it a good weekend.”

“So should I go home and pack?”

“You should,” he said, moving back to give her room to hop off the desk. “Don’t pack too much, the cabin is fully stocked.”

“Yes, sir,” she winked, playfully blowing him a kiss as she turned to leave the room.

“And call me the moment you get home!” he called after her as the door shut behind her.

She giggled as soon as she was out of his sight, the anticipation filling her making her fingers tingle.

This was going to be _awesome._

8-8-8-8-8

The first day of their weekend getaway was everything that Bulma could have asked for, and more.

She could honestly, with one hundred percent certainty, say that she had never had a better day in her entire life.

She was bursting with happiness, and she couldn’t tell if she had ever laughed or smiled so much in a single day, than on this first weekend date with Vegeta.

He had said he wasn’t fun, but his surly, near pessimistic outlook just amused her, whenever he’d make a comment that was meant to be snarky, but ended up just making her lose her shit laughing.

He seemed to be having a pretty good day, as well.

He had picked her up at seven in the morning, and they arrived at their destination near nine o’clock. He grumbled about the frequent pit stops whenever she needed to use the toilet, but whenever she finished, she found him munching away at a snack he had bought at the gas station stores they stopped at.

She’d teased him about his bottomless stomach, and he’d tried to jokingly bite her hand when she tried to steal his food.

When they arrived, he had gone directly to the kitchen, where he promptly opened the fridge, and Bulma smirked as she saw that the fridge was, indeed, fully stocked.

She had looked around, and absently noted that the cabin’s size and interior setup was nearly identical to his condo unit, except that all the walls and furniture were made of thick wood instead of glass, concrete and metal.

The cabin overlooked a small river, where Bulma had bullied Vegeta into fishing.

He was really bad at it, and Bulma had snickered at him as he finally pulled a single, tiny fish out after ages of waiting, and he grumbled that his fish was small enough to be bait for the one she had caught.

She had cooked lunch while he hovered over her shoulder, generally being a pest as he kept asking what she was making.

He had kissed her soundly after their meal, and Bulma had blushed profusely at his praises over the food, since she knew that she wasn’t exactly a fantastic cook and all she made was sweet and sour fish.

It all felt like a dream to her, like a page off of a romance novel, and she could barely believe that she was actually living, experiencing, such an amazing day.

She had thought the cabin-getaway thing to be a hopeless cliché, until Vegeta had brought her to his secluded riverside cottage and made all of her romantic dreams come true.

He was no romantic hero, not the kind to shower her with compliments and carry her off on a white steed in his shining silver armor…

But he had playfully kissed her cheeks, and hugged her snugly with his thick arms. He drove her around in his white SUV, wearing a simple white shirt and dark grey jeans.

She was not a demure princess in need of rescue from a great beast, but he had saved her from her doubts and shown her recognition for her skills, and Bulma was unendingly grateful that he had somehow been thrust into her life.

An annoying voice in the back of her head interjected that, even if it all didn’t last, she at least had _this_.

She furiously slapped that voice back. _No_. Her insecurities will not ruin the weekend for her.

They had spent the rest of the day just hanging out, stealing kisses from each other in a strange competition of who could surprise the other with more unannounced smooches.

Later that night, Bulma curled up against his chest as they lay on the small couch in the living room.

She was still in the pink shirt and denim shorts she had on when he picked her up that morning, and she could feel the thick material of his jeans against the back of her thighs.

Vegeta had brought their bags up to the bedroom previously, and only her small purse and their smartphones remained in the living room with them.

Bulma was about to laugh at something ridiculous on the television, when a yawn worked its way out her chest, and she slapped a hand over her face as her mouth opened wide.

It seemed as if all if the activities of the day had caught up to her, and she tried to fight the tiredness back.

She wasn’t quite ready to let the day end, yet.

Vegeta, however, chuckled softly behind her.

“It is getting late. We should get ready for bed,” he said, shifting to sit up with her still in his arms. He reached across them for the remote and turned the television off, before he held her by the shoulders to gently raise her up.

“I don’t wanna,” she muttered, pouting at the thought of sleep.

“We still have tomorrow. Now come on,” he urged her up, and soon he stood over her with a hand held out.

Bulma smiled as she reached for him, her fingers twining with his as they left the living room and began making their way up the stairs to the loft bedroom.

Once inside the room, Vegeta nudged her into the bathroom to take her shower, and Bulma complied, finding two sets of towels and two sets of toiletries laid ready for them.

She scrubbed herself quickly, going through the motions of washing herself while her mind wandered off.

She really did have a wonderful day, and though she knew that she would never forget this trip, she knew she wanted the day to end in an amazing way.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Vegeta was standing near the closets, apparently arranging their things. Her heart clenched at the sight of him distractedly putting their bags into cabinets, a fond smile on her lips as she shook her head at how utterly fastidious he was.

They were only going to be there another day, there really was no point, but Vegeta stayed true to his usual near-militaristic neatness and tried to keep an organized bedroom.

“Hey,” she called, and he turned to face her as she approached.

She didn’t miss the fire that entered his eyes as he watched her walk, naked save for the towel wrapped around her body.

“Your turn in the bath,” she said, and she watched his throat move as he gulped, trying and failing to avert his eyes.

He nodded, then wordlessly made his way into the bathroom.

Bulma had seen the desire in his eyes… had felt it even in his soft touches and in the way his lips moved over hers with restrained fervor.

She knew that he was holding himself back for her. He hadn’t once touched her sexually since that first full night that she spent with him in his condo, and she knew that he was doing it because he wanted her to get to know him more as a person than as her boss and as a man who felt lust for her.

He too, wanted to know her as a person, more than he wanted to fully explore her as a man who desired a woman.

She appreciated his intentions, loved him even more for the way he wanted to start over… Yet, she knew that if she was completely honest with herself, she missed the heat, the indescribable need that coursed through her veins whenever he touched her, moved over her, as a man and lover did.

She wanted him.

She wanted him desperately, and she could already feel the slight dampening in her core as she thought of how much she now needed his body against hers.

She wanted to show him how thankful she was to him for everything.

To let him see how sorry she was for the turmoil that she had put him through.

She wanted to let him _feel_ how much she loved him, even if she couldn’t bear to allow herself to let the words slip, just yet.

She needed him. Tonight.

She carelessly discarded her towel atop a chair in the corner, before she moved to the bed in the center of the room.

Completely naked, she crawled onto the bed, her hands caressing the soft sheets, as she lifted the thin blankets and covered herself with them while she sat and waited for him to come out.

She felt a little silly as she sat there, trying her best to twist herself up into what she felt was a sexy pose. She pulled the edge of the blankets to her chest, holding them against her breasts with a hand and making sure they showed her nudity while she kept her nipples concealed.

While she waited, she tried to remember all the things that she could about the naughty fiction books she had read as a teen, psyching herself up to seduce a man who had far more carnal experience than she did.

She wanted to make him feel as good as he had made her feel.

She quickly banished the short rush of panic that welled up in her as she watched the door to the bathroom slowly open.

Vegeta emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his delicious torso on display. His muscles moved sinuously as he kept his arms raised to his lowered head, towel-drying his hair, his movements hypnotic to her as she simmered in lust for him.

She waited a beat before she called out his name.

“Vegeta…”

He looked up.

The towel dropped unceremoniously from his hands, and his jaw hung slack while his eyes grew impossibly wide in his surprise.

Bulma saw a twitch beneath the towel at his waist, and she inwardly rejoiced as she realized that she had gotten the reaction that she wanted to elicit from him.

“Come to bed,” she said in a near whisper, slight embarrassment filling her as she tried to speak seductively to him, not quite sure if she sounded right.

She blushed as he continued to stare at her, his eyes darkening with hunger as he took a step closer, almost in a trance.

She smiled at him, and suddenly, he flinched, shaking his head as if to wake himself from a stupor.

“Bulma,” he croaked, looking off to the side as he cleared his throat. “You are naked.”

“Yes I am,” she answered, a smirk that looked far more confident than she actually felt lifting the sides of her lips.

He cleared his throat again, and a dark flush flooded his cheeks as he spoke. “Are you not going to get dressed?”

“Nope!”

Vegeta looked back at her at that, his eyes full of hesitation and lust, both emotions competing to dominate the other.

His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and Bulma felt a genuine giggle bubble up from her chest.

His lips quirked up into a grin at the sound of her laughter, and he very slowly made his way to the bed, a knee braced against the edge while he regarded her with a bit of caution in his gaze.

“Bulma,” he said her name again, but this time, his voice was firmer, if not still slightly nervous. “Are you trying to tell me that…”

Her resolve strengthened as she watched him falter in his words, as her genius brain worked to make her understand that his hesitation was not borne of a lack of yearning on his part.

He wanted her too much, she knew, but he was giving her the choice, as always.

She straightened, kneeling on the center of the bed, as she let the sheet covering her fall away.

Vegeta’s eyes fixed upon her so fervently, that she felt as if his stare could burn a hole through her, blaze her to a crisp if they weren’t careful with the way they handled the flames of his desire.

“I want you, Vegeta,” she breathed, and she felt the goosebumps rush over her as she finally put into words what every inch of her body was already screaming out.

She got down on all fours and crawled slowly to him, her skin tingling as his gaze bathed her with his need.

When she finally came upon him, she reached up, clutching at the edge of the towel still wrapped around his waist.

She could see that the front part had tented, and she licked her lips as she pulled the towel free, needing to see his body, to further stoke the raging hunger that she knew had already taken hold of him.

The towel fell soundlessly to the floor.

Bulma gasped as she came face to face with his cock; large, hard, and straining eagerly towards her.

She had never been this close to it, as all their past sexual encounters had started and ended with Vegeta in complete control of their escapades.

She felt a slight bit of nerves flare up, and she decided to sit back, close to him but not touching.

She reached a hand up until the tips of her fingers brushed over the smooth skin of his cheek.

He closed his eyes, a sigh leaving his lips.

She moved closer… closer…

Her breaths made his thick lashes flutter, and she leaned forward, carefully molding her body to his, as she placed a deep, tender kiss upon his lips.

He sucked in a breath, parting his lips for her as she sighed against him, her arms snaking around him to hold him around his torso as his own hands dropped down to possessively clutch the curves of her waist.

His cock pushed against her lower stomach as she pressed herself against him, and she could feel moisture leak from his tip as she writhed experimentally against him, pulling a harsh gasp from deep within his chest.

Her hands tangled into his hair, grasping him to her as their kiss stole the breath from her lungs while it breathed life into her heart.

She felt his hands move down to cup her buttocks, and she moaned against him when he pulled her even closer, grinding himself against her as his hands squeezed her soft rump. 

She pulled away from him then, out of breath, but determined to be the one to give him pleasure this time.

Bulma pulled him towards her, dragging him up the bed until she had him sitting back against the pillows. His legs were splayed before him, his hardness standing proudly between his parted legs.

She crawled closer to him until she was crouched before him, then she slowly lowered herself down to lay on her stomach, bracing herself on her elbows as she curiously stared at him again.

She had never before actually realized how big he was. She had never really thought about how he looked so powerful even down there, veins bulging through the skin of his shaft, the head round and flushed and nearly quivering under her stare.

“Bulma,” she heard him stutter hoarsely, and she looked up to find an agonized grimace on his face. “What are you doing?”

“I… I’m not sure,” she answered honestly, as her hand hesitantly reached for his shaft, pulling a pained-sounding hiss from his gritted teeth. “Did that hurt?”

“No… God no,” he answered, and Bulma decided that she was going to _learn_ his body tonight.

She held him with her fingers wrapped securely around him, then slowly moved her fist up until her hand was near the tip.

He was gasping above her, and she craned her neck up so she can watch him as she began to make her clumsy strokes on his cock.

She pumped her hand up and down, slowly increasing her speed, and she watched with rapt attention as Vegeta’s face contorted into the most magnificent expressions of pleasure. He was breathing hard, neck arched as his head was thrown back, and his fingers had clenched into the sheets while she worked him, gradually closing her hand tighter against him as his gasps slowly turned into moans.

She glanced down at his cock again, and she was startled to realize that it had all but turned red, and a small line of cum had started leaking from his tip.

She felt a strong, undeniable urge, to taste him.

Bulma scooted closer, carefully raising herself up until her mouth was level with the tip of his hardness.

She parted her lips, and let her tongue give him an experimental lick.

“Fuck!” Vegeta cried, his hips bucking up and surprising her with the intensity of his sudden movement.

Emboldened by his reaction, she leaned forward and gently pressed her tongue against the head once again.

Vegeta groaned, one hand convulsively clenching into the sheets while the other blindly reached forward to hold her idle hand in his.

Before she could change her mind, Bulma closed her eyes, dove down, and wrapped her lips around his tip.

He cried out, hips undulating helplessly against her as she moved down to take into her mouth as much of him as she could. When she could feel him nudging near the back of her throat, she pulled back, then pushed forward again, her hand on his shaft stroking as she licked and played with him with her lips.

“B-Bul-Bulma!” he gasped, and his hand reached out to hold her head, fingers tangling into the blue strands of her hair as she tried to figure out how to make this feel better for him.

She sucked in, and he groaned again, fingers winding tightly within her tresses, and Bulma began to alternate between sucking him in and blowing softly at his tip.

She could feel her wetness dripping out of her as she pleasured him, the sounds of his broken whispers and incoherent entreaties for more arousing her, exciting her… making her feel exquisite, _powerful_.

She was amazed at how she had managed to reduce this tightly controlled and self-assured man into a whimpering mess with the touch of her hands and lips.

Her hand that had been idle braced itself against his strong thigh as she moved more urgently above him, pumping him harder, more forcefully, wanting to feel him come undone…

“Bulma, stop!” he shouted desperately, and she let him go, her lips releasing him with a pop while her hand froze in its motions.

She looked at him questioningly as he panted, harsh uneven breaths rushing from his mouth, his entire form shuddering in need.

“Vegeta? What-”

He cut her off when he raised his head to look deep into her eyes, and she lost herself in the dark depths of his gaze as his hands reached forward to cup her cheek.

“I want to cum inside you,” he rasped, and Bulma felt her core shudder in desire.

She nodded, then pushed forward, placing her hands on his legs to still him when he tried to get up as well.

“No, let me…” she said softly, and she moved until she found herself sitting on his lap, knees braced on either side of his hips, her weeping core painfully close to his length.

She braced her hands on his powerful shoulders, staring deep into his eyes, knowing what she wanted to do but not quite sure how to go about it.

She gulped loudly, a blush flooding her cheeks as she debated on whether or not she should voice her concerns.

Vegeta seemed to understand, and she felt one of his hand splay across her back, supporting her, while the other hand went between them, holding his cock up to her entrance.

She rose up, shuddering slightly as she let him brush softly against her core.

They both groaned as she let herself press down, enveloping his hardness with her warmth.

She whimpered as she sank onto him, feeling him stretch her deliciously, moving, oh, so deep within her, until she had him in her up to the hilt.

She sat on his lap, squirming restlessly as she felt him deep inside her, and she rolled her hips, bracing herself with an arm around his neck and a hand flat against his thigh.

She rose up, then sat back down, and he released a sound close to a growl as she sank onto him. She did it again, and soon, she was restlessly moving atop him, his cock slipping in and out of her in a quick rhythm that had them both groaning in their ecstasy.

Bulma moaned, throwing her head back as she rode him, her legs tiring but refusing to stop moving.

He pulled her close to him until her breasts rubbed against his hard chest, his powerful arms wrapped around her as he helped her move over him.

She squirmed, moving her hips in circles, making him cry out a broken version of her name.

Vegeta was relentless, moving her so he was pounding into her from beneath her, her buttocks slapping erotically against his muscular thighs.

She was losing control, and she clung to him desperately as they moved, crying out his name, her hands gripping the thick strands of his hair as her body succumbed to the pleasure of their ardent lovemaking.

Bulma felt her release building up, hastened to the fore as he pressed her closer to his chest, his hardness within her rubbing against her insides and stimulating her engorging nub from within.

“Ve-Vegeta!” she screamed, her nails scratching thin trails across his back.

He groaned against her, burying his face into the crook of her neck as he kept pumping hard, and she felt his teeth clamp none too gently against her shoulder as his movements began to lose its steady rhythm.

She felt him shudder in her arms, a tell-tale sign that had become familiar to her, andshe instantly understood that he was _close_.

“Vegeta!” she said more softly, letting her breath brush over his throat.

He pulled his head away, leaning back so he could look her in the eyes as they reached, grasped, tried to climb into that precipice.

“Bulma,” he murmured roughly, before he surged forward and captured her lips with his in a searing, heart-stopping kiss that filled her with the most electrifying emotions that scorched her more than any physical pleasure ever could.

The rush of powerful feelings, coupled with the amazing sensations of his body writhing uncontrollably against her own, made the simmering within her core rise past the boiling point, and Bulma screamed, a long, drawn out sound of magnificent anguish that emptied her mind and made her vision blur white.

She felt Vegeta still against her, her own name tumbling from his lips, as the warmth of his release filled her within, coating her with his tender touch and unparalleled need.

They stayed like that for seemingly hours, breathing and gasping harshly while curled up within each other, neither daring to move for fear of breaking whatever spell had been cast upon them.

She felt Vegeta’s arms squeeze her, pulling him to her as he sighed out her name.

He began to shift, and Bulma let him pull her down until they were both lying on the bed, still entwined, unwilling to let the other go.

He pulled back so he could look at her, his fingers gently brushing her hair away from her sweat dampened forehead. He stared wordlessly at her, a peculiar sort of wonder in his dark eyes.

She smiled at him, before she nuzzled into his chest, her fingers tenderly stroking the hard planes of his sculpted chest as her exhaustion pulled her into the welcoming arms of slumber.

Bulma felt his arms holding her tighter as she drifted off, and her last thought before the succumbed to sleep was that she had truly, never been happier than she was at that moment.

8-8-8-8-8

Beyond the walls of their bedroom, laying forgotten atop the small coffee table in the cabin’s living room, a phone rang merrily within the pocket of a small shoulder bag. The caller tried once, twice, until the phone finally stopped ringing, leaving two missed calls flashing upon the screen.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_

 


	6. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma receives a phone call that causes another huge shift in her relationship with Vegeta, and a confrontation leads to events that neither of them would have ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Here’s Chapter 6! Before you read this, please know that I love you all and pleasedontkillme.  
> And as always, your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

Monday mornings are typically _hell_.

Yet, even as Bulma waded through what appeared to be a raging river of paperwork and a deluge of emails, she couldn’t keep the brilliant smile off her face while a cheerful whistle damn near broke through her lips.

She was in a ridiculously good mood, and she knew exactly why.

She had just spent the most magical weekend with Vegeta, and she strongly believed that there was nothing on earth that could ruin her day.

She was still floating wistfully on a happy little cloud as she kept replaying her cabin-getaway with Vegeta in her head.

Vegeta had woken her up, bright and early on the second day of their weekend, with his sinfully nimble fingers tracing the curves of her body.

He had kissed her lazily, the movements of his lips against hers gentle and achingly sweet, his hands languidly touching her until she was so aroused and sensitive that even the feel of the smooth sheets against her skin felt too rough.

Laying on their sides, he’d spooned against her, raised her leg to sling it over his arm as he entered her from behind…

The tantalizing way he’d made love to her that morning brought tears to her eyes as she gasped, moaned and sobbed his name, pressing her hips against his until they came, groaning their pleasure against each other’s lips.

The rest of the day was spent mostly in each other’s arms; eating, cooking and laughing together; stealing kisses that led them back to bed, where they had sex several more times that day.

Just before sunset, they showered and packed up, and Vegeta drove them back to the city, holding her hand between the seats any chance he could.

He had dropped her off at her apartment, leaving her with a heart-stopping kiss before he himself headed home.

The thought of the previous day made a wide grin spread wide across her lips, even as she realized that she was actually still a bit sore from all their activities. She didn’t care.

Bulma was in love.

She was _madly_ in love.

She finally understood the sentiments of all the romance novels she had ever read, of how time seems to stop when lovers look into each other’s eyes.

Her cellphone chiming beside her pulled her from her thoughts.

She had completely forgotten about the poor thing, stuck in her handbag since Saturday evening, and by the time she checked it late Sunday night, it was completely out of batteries.

She had plugged it into her computer’s USB port at work to charge it, and upon hearing the chime signaling a full charge, she unplugged it to turn it back on.

She placed her cellphone down beside her keyboard as it booted up, while she turned back to her monitor to read over another new email.

She replied to three emails before she glanced back at the cellphone, and her eyes widened as she saw the notification on her lock screen.

Two missed calls from Tights, from very late last Saturday night.

Worry filled her as she reached for the small phone, and she quickly called her sister back.

The call went straight to voicemail, and Bulma felt the concern well up in her chest.

She mentally scolded herself for stupidly letting her phone stay unattended for so long.

Nobody, other than Tights and the people she worked with, knew her number, and Bulma and Tights had promised to only call each other when it was absolutely important.

The paranoia gnawed at her insides as she stared at her phone screen. She was so focused on the small gadget that she nearly missed the ringing of her desk phone.

The choppy tone let her know that it was ringing from an outside line, and Bulma knitted her brows as she picked up.

“Ouji Enterprises, CEO Office, good morning,” she greeted.

Silence answered her from the other line.

“Hello?” she tried again. “Ouji Enterprises, who is on the line please?”

Static sounded from the other line, before she heard someone, a woman, clear her throat.

“Hello, Bulma,” the caller answered, and Bulma’s skin prickled in denial even as she immediately recognized the voice.

“Who is this?” she demanded, voice stern even though she was shaking on the inside.

“Come now dear,” the caller answered. “Don’t tell me you don’t know your own mother’s voice?”

Bulma’s blood went cold.

She had not spoken to either of her parents for the past seven months, and she was filled with dread as her worst fears scratched their way to the fore of her mind.

Perhaps… this was why Tights had tried to call her.

Her family had found her.

“Oh, I know. But I was hoping I was wrong,” she said coldly, fingers white as she clutched the phone tightly.

“You wound me, dear.”

“What do you want mom, and how did you find me here?” she asked, desperately wanting to put the phone down, to run as far away from this threat as possible and seek shelter within the only place she really felt safe and protected.

She needed Vegeta.

Her heart pounded, everything within her screaming for Vegeta, for him to come and save her from what was happening, even as her mother kept talking.

“It wasn’t hard dear. Your name isn’t very common, and your father is connected to several people linked to Ouji,” she said, and Bulma could just _see_ the usual placid smile on her mother’s face, framed by her deceivingly innocent blonde curls.

“Why are you calling me?”

Panchy paused. “Oh my. You really are still angry, aren’t you?”

“Of course!” Bulma cried, cupping her hand around the mouthpiece to keep her voice down.

“Well do you want me to apologize? Because you know we were right. Your best course is to manage Capsule Corp.”

Bulma was strangling her mother in her mind.

“No, I do not need your apology. I also know now, that I really don’t need the family to make a name for myself. I am doing _very_ well here at Ouji.”

Her mother sighed. “You are living in an apartment complex that is smaller than our living room. Your whole flat is probably smaller than my bathroom. You are driving a car that is older than you are. How could you say that you are doing well?”

“Is there a point to this call?” she asked sharply. She was really losing her patience.

“I just want you to come home, Bulma,” Panchy said. “Honey, I know you are still miffed but your father and I miss you.”

“I’m not going back, mom,” she spat. Vegeta’s stern face - lowered brows, pursed lips and all - appeared in her mind’s eye as she continued. “I am having fun here in Ouji. I am needed here, and here, they understand my worth.”

“How long are you going to keep this up? You’ve made your point. Now come back home.”

“I am not doing this just to prove a point to you and dad,” Bulma seethed. “I like it here. I like my job.”

“Is it _really_ your _job_ that you like, Bulma?”

Bulma froze, her mind already supplying the upcoming insinuation.

“ _Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say…_ ” she thought, as the words she had been dreading fell into her ears from her mother’s careless mouth.

“Or is it that _very_ handsome young CEO?”

“Mother, you _dare_ suggest-”

“Oh, please Bulma,” Panchy continued. “I am your mother. I know you, so don’t even deny it. Besides, I’ve seen the photos.”

Bulma’s breath left her, leaving her nearly gasping with shock.

“Photos?” she asked, her whole body numb.

“You’re the genius, sweetie. Did you really not realize that the paparazzi would have photos of you by now?” her mother asked calmly. “How do you think we finally ascertained where you were?”

Panchy pushed on. “I really liked the one where you were standing outside a coffee shop and he was holding your drink for you while you were fixing his tie. You both looked so relaxed. I haven’t seen you smile that widely since you finished your Business degree.”

Bulma couldn’t speak. She was flabbergasted, stunned by the realization that she hadn’t been careful enough.

“But,” the elder woman was still speaking, and her every word was creating a bigger and bigger chasm in Bulma’s chest. “You know which one was my favorite? My favorite was the one that a paparazzo tried to sell to me yesterday, in return for his silence. It is quite controversial, after all… You, and your boss, outside a gas station store near the city border, holding hands and looking so sweet together!”

The world could have ceased spinning, and Bulma wouldn’t have noticed.

“Gosh Bulma, you really are _just like Tights,_ after all!”

Bulma finally snapped out of her stupor, and with a furious cry, slammed her phone back into its cradle.

She stared at the phone, horror gripping her as she breathed hard, tears of fury and frustration gathering in her eyes.

Her mother knew.

She knew about her and Vegeta, and now the thing that she feared most was unfolding before her.

Her mother saw her as _cheap._

She could hear it in the sarcastic tones of her voice, could remember the insulting words the blonde matron had used to talk about Tights after they found out that she was pregnant by her publisher.

Now, her mother, and possibly her father, probably knew for sure that she was _cozy_ with her boss.

All of her insecurities, her reservations about being with Vegeta, were rising to the fore of her mind, clawing at her chest until the malicious miasma of guilt and shame overwhelmed her once again.

She had made a mistake.

She had forgotten what she came to Ouji for, lost in the caresses and the soft pleasure of Vegeta’s hands and lips…

She had let herself fall in love with the man who she knew she had only come to work for since she needed a leg up in the corporate world.

Stupidly, she had become complacent and let herself come to him, welcoming him into her arms and surrendering her body and soul to the mesmerizing darkness of his eyes.

The past few days, previously a beautiful memory, became tainted to her, and she held a hand to her chest as the pain of loss and denial pounded through her, clawing at her and leaving her bleeding.

She had let herself become so enamored with a man who had never once really told her what he truly wanted from her, and excruciating pain ripped her apart as she realized that, though she loved him, he had never said that he loved her, as well.

She had risked her career and reputation for someone who possibly didn’t even feel for her as deeply as she did for him.

This cannot go on.

Her desk phone rang again, and visceral terror held her immobile, her fingers seizing and refusing to pick it up. It took her several moments before she realized that the tone was the regular ringer, meaning that the call was coming from within the office.

“Hello?” she answered, voice shaking slightly.

“Bulma?” the cheery voice of a young man answered.

“Yes, Goku?”

“I just wanted to invite you coz it’s Launch’s birthday today, and big bro Raditz prepared a surprise party in the dining area here in HR,” he said. “Can you and Vegeta come?”

She smiled. Goku was always a ray of sunshine and she had no doubt that he was the one who pushed his elder brother into organizing a party for Launch.

“I’m not sure, Goku. Vege-,” she cleared her throat as she caught herself. “Ouji-san is very busy right now.”

“Oh. That’s too bad. I was hoping you could come because,” Goku lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “I think my brother is gonna ask Launch to be his girlfriend today!”

Her smile turned watery as unbidden envy flooded her.

Launch was a normal woman who did office work for a living. She didn’t grow up with a huge trust fund, and wasn’t smart enough to be accelerated a grade every two years. She wasn’t _lucky_ or _gifted_ like Bulma.

However, her life was _normal._

She had a normal love life. She had dated Tien, had recently begun dating Raditz, and now Raditz was officially asking her to be his girlfriend.

Why is it that women like Launch could have it so easy, while Bulma, who was supposed to be _lucky_ and _gifted,_ was agonizing over the circumstances surrounding the first man she had ever loved?

“I’m… I’m sorry, Goku. I really don’t think I can come,” she said, choking back a bitter sob that rose in the back of her throat.

“Oh, that sucks. I'll just save you some cake and I’ll bring it up to you, alright?” he said. “You sound a little sad, maybe the sweets could cheer you up!”

Sometimes, Goku surprised Bulma by how perceptive he could be.

“That would be nice, Goku,” she answered before she put the phone down.

She sighed, before she leaned down, placed her head in her hands, and held back the tears that wanted to stream down her face.

Her heart felt hollow, bleeding at the thought of what she now knew she had to do.

She shook her head as she remembered how happy she had been just a few minutes ago, and how she realized that a part of her also felt like it was all too good to be true.

She knew it.

The peaceful past few days had truly been too wonderful to last.

As impossibly painful as it would be for her, she had to stay away from Vegeta.

.

8-8-8-8-8

She knew that staying away from him was not going to be easy.

However… she had still underestimated how _hard_ it would actually be.

On Monday afternoon, she had avoided him by leaving her post five minutes too early, keeping her cellphone off until she reached home.

He had texted her twice.

> “ _Hey are you alright? Have you left? I can’t find you.”_

_> “Will you text me when you get home? Just let me know that you are alright.”_

She had replied with a simple, “ _Yes, I am at home and I am alright. See you at work tomorrow.”_

She had booked him full with meetings and appointments all day on Tuesday and Wednesday, only coming into his office to get his signature on papers, taking his calls respectfully and avoiding coming into his office when she knew they would be alone.

The whole time, she dodged his questioning glances and his increasingly agitated state. She made sure to leave work early so as to avoid confrontations with him.

She knew he was worried and was puzzled as to why, after they had made such amazing progress in their relationship – whatever _relationship_ it was – she was suddenly pulling away from him, yet again.

She thought she saw his car parked outside her apartment when she looked out the window, late Thursday night.

On the last day of the work week, it appeared that he had finally had enough.

He was a boss from hell all of Friday, terrorizing their staff and making one of the call center employees burst into tears.

He tore savagely into Nappa regarding a small budgeting issue, and the large bald man looked so red from humiliation and distress that Bulma thought he would burst.

Not even Tarble was safe from his misplaced ire, as Vegeta had harshly criticized his younger brother’s proposals and went so far as to call him “unacceptably incompetent”.

Bulma winced every single time a forlorn face slumped sadly out of his office, as she knew that she was the reason for Vegeta’s aggression.

She had to put an end to this.

She had been a coward, hiding and running from him, when what she needed to do was just talk to him…

Just _tell_ him…

That they were done.

Her chest constricted painfully at the thought.

Because for all of Bulma’s false bravado and her supposedly final decision to let go of whatever it was they had between them, she knew that she didn’t really _want_ to do it.

She was such a fucking coward that she was even running away from the thought of _running away_ from him.

Since when had she been so weak?

Nearly an hour before the end of the work day, her desk phone rings, and she stills as she sees the caller ID.

Vegeta was calling her.

“Yes, Ouji-san?” she answers as she picks up, wincing at the crack she hears in her voice.

“Come into my office, _now,_ ” he commands, before he slams the phone on her.

Bulma takes several deep breaths, trying to clear her chaotic thoughts for a few precious seconds before she stands up and begins to make her way to Vegeta’s office.

The usual walk to his office seemed to take forever, as Bulma’s feet felt heavier than lead, each step becoming almost physically agonizing until she finally reached the door. She pressed the door lock, and the soft beep that went with the unlocking mechanism sounded like trumpets in her ears.

She pushed the door open, and she was surprised to find that Vegeta was not at his desk like usual. Her eyes panned around until she found him, standing near the glass walls, his back to her as he stood unmoving.

It reminded her of the first time she had ever seen him, standing regal and intimidating, attuned to her every movement even as his body language shouted indifference.

However, something was strangely different about his stance now, and it only took Bulma a moment to realize why.

He was standing slightly hunched forward, his arms hanging limply from his side. He wasn’t looking _out_ the glass wall, but blindly staring at it, with his jaw clenched hard as he visibly ground his teeth.

He looked so angry and yet, so utterly defeated, that Bulma wanted to rush to him and hold him… everything else be damned.

But even as she wished it, her own stubborn resolve bubbled forth, pushing her to stick with her plan to stay away from him.

She wanted him. She _needed_ him. But she needed to be strong, as well.

When he finally turned away from the wall, he simply watched her out of the corner of his eyes, not fully facing her as he began to speak, a low, dejected monotone that broke her heart as thoroughly as any insult or angry tirade ever could.

“I don’t understand you, Bulma. I don’t understand any of this-” he broke off as he shook his head, gesturing vaguely between them. “I need to know why you keep doing this to me.”

“Vegeta,” she began, but he raised a hand, halting her words.

“I don’t want any shallow ramblings,” he said, a tremulous note edging his voice, before he finally turned around, his gaze stabbing through her in its intensity.

His voice was hoarse as he stared at her accusingly, fists clenching convulsively at his sides. “I need to understand. Why it’s like this… Why you always… I… _I want an answer,_ _god_ _dammit!”_

She trembled, opening her mouth to answer, but no words would come out.

“Are you toying with me?”

That broke her of her silence, and she answered in a choked half-shout, her voice breaking, “No!”

“Are you with anyone else?”

“No…”

He advanced towards her, and she flinched away from him as he approached. He reached up, hands grabbing at her upper arms, forcing her to look at him.

His eyes were blazing now, mouth twisted up in a scowl. He looked ready to scream at her, strangle her even, but he suddenly deflated, his hands holding her gently even in his apparent rage.

Bulma choked back a sob at the conflicted look in his eyes.

“Then, why?” he asked, his voice so uncharacteristically meek that Bulma wanted to go and fling herself into his arms and smooth his pain away.

“I…” she started, eyes filling with tears as even _she_ questioned herself. “I’m sorry, Vegeta.”

“Don’t just tell me you’re sorry, Bulma,” he whispered. “Tell me why. I need to know why. Why can’t you be with me?”

“I just… I just can’t!” Bulma sobbed, the tears finally falling, rushing down her cheeks in a torrent of emotion that left her dizzy with sorrow.

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

She closed her eyes, unable to stand the anguish that she could see swimming in his eyes.

“I can’t. I _can’t!”_ she cried, trying unsuccessfully to pull herself from his grasp.

“Then why won’t you tell me _why_? Is it… is it just because you don’t want me?” he asked, pulling her, shaking her gently in a silent plea for her to look back at him. “Have I… have I just been alone in thinking there was something here, Bulma? Have I… Have I _forced_ myself on you?”

Her eyes shot open at his question, her tears ceasing. “No! No, you… you have never forced yourself on me. I… I let you hold me… because I wanted it, too.”

“Then I will never understand,” he hissed, finally letting her go, turning back to face the glass wall.

He stared blankly out the scenery, and Bulma heard his deep, harsh breaths, echoing in the silence of the room.

“I want you to know,” he said, his voice edged in ice, “that you have made me absolutely miserable. I am so confused and dismal. I don’t like feeling this way. This… distress that I am going through… I’m not used to this. And frankly, I _hate_ it. And I blame you for this.”

Her hackles rose at his words. “You think this is easy for me? I’m confused, too! I’ve never experienced this before. I don’t understand you either! I don’t know what you want from me-”

“What have I ever done to make this confusing for you, Bulma?” he demanded, turning to face her again, face contorted in rage. “What do you want me to say? I have _told_ you. I want you… I want you with me always! I need you to be with me. You’re the only woman I want! What part of that is so hard to understand?!”

“The part where you never said what I need you to say!” she shouted, her hands flying to her chest, clutching herself as if her holding on to her chest would keep her heart from breaking. “The part where you don’t feel for me the way _I_ feel for you.”

She felt disconnected from her own mind, and the words tumbled from her lips without thought. “You swept me up like a fucking hurricane and I can’t believe how I have lost so much control, given you my _everything,_ and turned myself into such a wanton _harlot_ for you!”

She stilled as those words left her lips, and she watched as he too froze, pain and disbelief mingling in his eyes.

All the fight left him right then, as he slouched forward, hands going into the pockets of his pants before he turned around, leaving her to stare after his back once again.

She swallowed, “Vegeta… Vegeta, I’m sorry, I-”

“Just go, Bulma,” he said softly, defeated. “If that’s how you feel, then there is nothing more to discuss.”

“Vegeta, I…”

“Leave, woman,” he said forcefully, but Bulma swore that his voice was choked up.

Unable to take any more, she turned around, and fled the room as fast as she could.

She grabbed her bag from her desk as she ran, ignoring the worried glances from her co-workers as the tears fell from her eyes again, staining her cheeks and falling into her lips.

She could still taste the salt of her grief as she drove home, knuckles white as she gripped her steering wheel with unnecessary force.

She was heartbroken… She felt like she was _dying._

It was _over_.

It was over between them now.

Her heart twisted into knots in her chest, and she raised a hand to her breast as she felt a very distinct pinch where she knew her heart was supposed to be.

She loved him. And now she had given him up.

She would always hate herself for what she had done.

.

8-8-8-8-8

On Saturday, Bulma woke near noon, and didn’t get up until three hours later.

She didn’t bother with a shower. Didn’t have the strength or will to eat.

In her abject misery, she had gone to her jewelry box and lifted out the beautiful crescent-shaped necklace that Vegeta had given her, seemingly an eternity ago.

She put it on, watching it sway cheerfully across her throat, as she resolved to quit her job first thing on Monday morning.

She couldn’t bear to work with him, couldn’t endure being around him, while knowing that she had lost him.

The necklace was the only thing she had.

If he asked her to return it, she would.

Thus, she would wear it now, so she would never have to forget the feel of the cool metal around her neck.

The same way she would never wish to forget to feel of his hands on her, the touch of his lips on her own.

The way his voice softened slightly whenever he said her name.

She had only one picture with him, a blurry selfie she took beside him after they were done fishing in the river outside his cabin, and she scrambled to pull her phone out of her bag so she could pull it up and stare at it.

Her lips trembled as she took in his pouting face and her wide smile as she held up the large fish she had caught. It was such a happy day, and she dearly wished that it had never ended.

It would have been wonderful if they had just stayed in that cabin forever.

Late that night, she was sitting dejectedly in front of her television, staring listlessly at the rerun of a terrible TV movie that she had once laughed at with Vegeta.

She was huddled beneath a blanket on the couch, eyes puffy from crying, and desperately yearning to run back to Vegeta and beg him to forgive her and take her back.

Bulma was startled from her misery when her cellphone began to ring.

She stared at the blasted thing in trepidation, not knowing if she should pick up or just let it ring.

It was very late at night, and the phone was _slightly_ out of her reach, so Bulma decides to ignore it.

The phone rings incessantly until the line finally cuts off.

She goes back to her movie, staring numbly at it as she hoped that the unbelievably stupid plot could melt her brain enough to let her fall asleep.

The phone rings again.

Now curious, Bulma reaches over and peers into it.

“What the…?” she mutters as she sees the name of the caller. “Why would Goku be calling me at this time?”

She picks up the phone, and swipes on the screen to answer it.

“Hello?” she answers.

The line was noisy, with garbled voices and short alarms in the background. She brought the phone closer to her ear as she spoke into it again. “Goku? Hello?”

“Bulma!” Goku nearly shouted into the phone, surprising her with the sense of urgency in his tone.

“Goku, what is it?” she asked.

“Bulma! Please, you gotta come! I was visiting my girlfriend during her shift when I saw them bring him in! Please you gotta come to South-West!”

“Wait, what?” Bulma knew that Goku’s girlfriend, Chichi, was a night shift receptionist at South-West Medical Center. “Goku, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

“He’s here! They wheeled him in just now and I think it’s bad, Bulma!”

A sudden, inexplicable tendril of terror crawled through her spine, and trepidation choked her as she spoke again. “Goku, please, you’re not making sense!”

“He got into an accident, Bulma! Vegeta was in an accident and he’s bleeding hard and it looks bad!”

Bulma gasped.

The cellphone clattered onto the floor as it slipped from her trembling fingers.

.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	7. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma rushes to be with Vegeta following his accident, and the stress and worry cause her to really rethink her past actions. However, she fears that her realizations may have come a little too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers!  
> I felt pretty bad for leaving you all with that cliffhanger from last chapter. I didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long. So here is the next part!  
> As always, all comments will be greatly appreciated!

Bulma was sure that she had never before, in her entire life, driven this fast.

She blew through three stop lights before she realized that she should slow down, lest she herself get into an accident.

She was still wearing the rumpled clothes she had worn to bed the night before, and she was sure that she looked absolutely disastrous, but she didn’t care.

Vegeta was injured.

She needed to see him.

Her GPS told her that she was almost there.

About ten minutes away from the hospital, she came upon a traffic diversion at an intersection, and she anxiously peeked around the large towing truck that was blocking the way. It was pulling out a vehicle that had been in a road traffic accident, apparently the second one as another large blue pickup truck with a dented front bumper had already been pulled to the side of the road.

Her breath lodged in her throat, her blood turning to ice in her veins when she finally caught a look at the very familiar, pearl white SUV being hauled away.

Vegeta’s car.

She couldn’t possibly be wrong.

It was Vegeta’s car.

She didn’t even need to check the plate number, as the shiny paint job and the plush seats that she knew all too well were a dead giveaway.

He had been in a car accident.

When Goku had called, he didn’t know the circumstances around Vegeta’s injuries, only that he was bleeding and was about to be admitted into surgery.

Her mouth went dry as her eyes stayed glued to the car, noting the badly ruined door to the driver’s side. The window was smashed in, and by the looks of it, the blue pickup truck had crashed head-on into the driver’s side… where Vegeta had been.

She stopped her engine, uncaring if she was in the middle of the road, and hopped off her car to run to the tow truck, jumping up to catch the driver’s attention.

“Hey lady, what the hell?!” the driver, a very scruffy man about twice her age, shouted angrily at her as she waved her hands around to catch his attention.

“Please! Please, I know this car! The owner is my…”

She trailed off for a moment as she hesitated on what to call Vegeta.

Her boss? Her lover?

Bulma steeled herself as she continued.

“The owner is the man that I love. I need to know… did you see him? Is he gonna be alright?”

The tow truck driver deflated at her earnest words, turning the engine off as he responded.

“I got here to pull that other car,” he gestured to the blue van, “away from this car. They already had the guy out on a stretcher, and the blue truck’s driver was being led into a police car. I think he was high or something.”

Bulma nodded, her gaze straying to Vegeta’s ruined car once more.

“Now the guy who was driving this white car, he was bleeding,” he continued, pulling Bulma’s gaze back to him, “but I’ve seen lots of wrecks, and from my experience, this guy, it’s not that bad, kid. Your man is gonna be fine.”

She released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding as relief washed over her.

He was going to be fine.

“Of course, he’s bound to be in a hell of a lot of pain,” the man mused, “so you should go. They brought him to South-West, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

Bulma nodded, smiling at the man. “Yes, I’ve been told. Thank you so much, and I'm sorry for bothering you mister,” she glanced at his name badge “mister Yajirobe.”

“No problem, kid. By the way, I think you dropped that.”

She looked in the direction of Yajirobe’s gaze, only to find a black smartphone on the ground. In the darkness, the phone was nearly invisible.

She picked it up, and immediately realized that it was Vegeta’s phone. She recognized the thick armor-like phone case, and she absently recalled him saying that the manufacturer promised full impact-resistance.

She remembered telling him that, with as much as he drops or throws his phone, only a tank shell would be able to protect it.

Considering the current, nearly unscathed state of the phone within, she supposed the manufacturer was right. Vegeta would be happy to know that.

She held on to the phone as she made her way back to her car, placing it on the passenger seat beside her own phone, then raced in the direction of the hospital once again.

She parked her car, not bothering to check if the parking was even aligned, before she ran straight to the emergency room, her wallet and their phones in her hands.

She came upon the ER reception desk, looking around to try to find the familiar face of Goku’s girlfriend.

She found the younger woman immediately, recognizing her by her very straight dark hair and large, dark eyes.

“Chichi? You’re Chichi, right?” Bulma asked as she came up to the reception desk.

Chichi immediately stood to greet her. “Bulma-san! Yes, we’d been expecting you. Please,” Chichi motioned to a short hallway to the right, leading into a small, slightly secluded area. “Go that way, to the waiting area. Goku-kun’s already there.”

“Chichi, how is Vegeta?” Bulma asked.

“He’s in surgery now, but I’ve been told that he’s gonna be fine. I’m not allowed to tell you any more than that, but please be assured that a doctor will come by soon to inform you of his status.”

“Thank you,” Bulma said, before she headed into the room that Chichi had indicated.

When she turned into the room, she found that it was an open area with an arched entryway but no door. Chairs lined three of the walls, and on one corner sat Goku, brows lowered while he chewed on his lip, staring distractedly at the low table in the very center of the room.

“Goku?” she called, making him suddenly perk up.

“Bulma! I’m so glad you made it!” he said as he stood, before he jogged up to her, wrapping her into a big bear hug.

Bulma hugged him back, biting back her tears as the empathy of the younger man made the worry and panic rise in her again, and all of her mixed emotions from the past week threatened to crush her with their force.

“Of course,” she choked. “I… I need to be here, Goku. I need to make sure he’s alright.”

She felt his head bob as he nodded, before he released her and then led her to sit on one of the chairs. He took the items in her hands and laid them on the table.

“That doctor in the ER said that Vegeta wasn’t critical. He’s really roughed up, but he just looks worse than he actually is,” Goku said, sitting beside her on the squeaky metal bench.

“So he’ll be fine? Why is he in the OR then?”

“I think he’s busted a bone,” Bulma winced as Goku kept speaking, “But he wasn’t unconscious or anything when they brought him in. He even recognized me. So I think he’s gonna be alright.”

“He recognized you?”

“Yeah. Even asked why I wasn’t at school, I reminded him it’s a Saturday.”

Bulma chuckled. It was just like Vegeta, to inquire about something like that even in the middle of a medical emergency.

“And how about you? Are you alright?” Goku asked, glancing meaningfully at her obviously disheveled state.

Bulma glanced down at herself. She was wearing a comfy, worn black shirt and a pair of old blue track pants. She barely had time to slip a bra on before she rushed out the door, grabbing just her wallet, car keys and phone.

Her hand flew up to her chest, where the crescent necklace still rested against her throat.

She barked out a short, humorless laugh. “Sorry, I must look absolutely horrifying.”

“Naw, it’s ok! You don’t look too bad,” Goku grinned. “I can just imagine, if it had been me, and Chichi was in trouble, I’d probably run here naked or something.”

Bulma’s eyes widened at the insinuation. She opened her mouth to say something, but Goku just kept talking obliviously.

“If you love someone, you drop _everything_ to be there for ‘em, right?”

“Love?” she asked, astonished. As far as she knew, she had _never_ behaved in any way at work to even _hint_ that there was anything between her and Vegeta.

Goku looked confused. “Oh. Was it just Vegeta then?”

“Just Vegeta, what?” she asked.

“I didn’t realize it was one-sided. Oh, poor Vegeta. I guess he never said anything to you, then.”

She was really confused now.

She determined then, that she really _loathed_ being confused.

“Goku, what are you talking about?” she asked more slowly.

“Bulma, he’s crazy in love with you. Didn’t you know?”

Bulma stared at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What? No he’s not.”

“Yeah he is!” Goku cried impatiently. “Raditz told me. He said that one time, about three months ago, he and Vegeta got drunk in the bar he used to work at and Vegeta told him.”

She was beyond surprised at this revelation. That was one month before the office party that started everything. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t kid about that,” Goku said, a slight pout on his lips. “So I told Raditz you both look good together. Vegeta’s been a lot nicer since you came to Ouji, ya know.”

Bulma blinked. Vegeta wasn’t _nice_. He was _tolerable,_ at best. He used to be even worse?

“People were terrified of him. I think that’s why the Sales Team is so good, coz one look from him and they’d go running. When Ouji-sama announced the step down, everyone panicked.”

“But you joined us just as he became CEO,” Goku went on, “And suddenly, he wasn’t so scary anymore. He was smiling! He didn’t throw people out of his office and make them cry. He stopped being so _angry.”_

Bulma sat in stunned disbelief as Goku simply smiled at her.

“And,” he said, “when I look at you together, I really think you both feel the same way for each other.”

“Why do you think that, Goku?” she asked, eyes burning with tears at what this incredibly perceptive young man was saying.

Goku’s eyes softened immeasurably, and he stared past her, out into the hallway, in the direction of the ER reception desk.

“Because,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. “The way you look at him, is the same as the way Chichi looks at _me._ And Chichi… she loves me, just like I love her.”

He turned back to her then, a brilliant smile on his face. “I’m gonna marry her someday!”

The tears slipped slowly down Bulma’s cheeks, and she tried hard to keep a smile on her face, even as she began to sob.

And suddenly, all the adrenaline that pumped through her bloodstream from the moment Goku called her that night just drained away, leaving her exhausted, and so utterly devastated, that the sobs became louder, turning into body-wracking heaves that sent her curling in on herself.

Goku’s hand was on her shoulder as she wept, all of the sadness and anguish of the past week twisting around the fear that she felt for Vegeta’s safety.

She regretted every word she ever said, every action she ever made, that had hurt that poor man whose only fault was to try to get close to her heart.

She was such a wretch.

She didn’t know how, but she found herself sobbing into Goku’s chest, loud wails of guilt and self-loathing peppered with the whimpers of her anxiety and pain.

“Goku! Goku, I love him,” she cried. “I love him so much. And I’ve hurt him so badly. I don’t – I don’t know what to do!”

Goku’s hand on her kept soothing her, patting and stroking gently across her back.

“What if he dies, Goku? It won’t be fair… he’s such an amazing person and he deserves more than this!” she wailed. “I don’t deserve him. He deserves to have a woman who’s better than me!”

The words tumbled uncontrollably from her lips, and she couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop crying.

“He’s made me so happy. And I never told him. He’ll never know! And I can’t – I can’t lose him. I need him! I need him and I need to tell him!”

He remained silent as she kept crying, until her sobs slowly began to subside and her chest was painful from her worry and heartache.

“Oh don’t worry, Bulma,” he said. “He’s gonna be fine. He even asked for you while they were taking him to OR.”

“Really?” she asked, reduced to one-word answers by her hiccups and sniffles.

“Yeah. I told you he was conscious, but he was a bit out of it. He was all, _Oi why aren’t you in school,_ then he was all _Kakarot where’s Bulma, call Bulma,”_ Goku said, deepening his voice to mimic Vegeta’s deeper baritone.

A small laugh bubbled up from her chest, her heart swelling with her fondness for Vegeta.

“Hey see, that’s better! Keep smiling, Bulma,” the spiky-haired teen said. “Now what do you say we take a nap until the doctors come? It shouldn’t be long now. Honestly, I’m tired.”

Both leaned back and made themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard metal chairs.

Bulma had no idea how long she had been asleep, but she was sure that it hadn’t been very long until she woke from the strain on her back

God damn but these waiting room chairs are uncomfortable.

She realized that Goku was gone from her side, and she guessed that he had probably gone to Chichi while she was asleep.

However, she felt another presence somewhere off to her left, and she turned her head…

Only to find a blurry image of a man with dark, flame-shaped hair.

“Vegeta?” she asked, rubbing her still sleepy eyes. She must be seeing things. This was a hallucination!

The hallucination however, chuckled low, and she sat up, shocked.

“What…?”

“I am _a_ Vegeta _,_ but perhaps not the one you were hoping to see, Bulma-san.”

She finally opened her eyes fully, and realized that the man sitting a few feet away from her now was the _older_ Vegeta, Ouji-sama.

“Ouji-sama,” she greeted, consciously raising a hand to her chest, embarrassed at how messy she looked. “I apologize for my appearance. I didn’t have the time to change-”

“That is fine, Bulma-san. I understand,” he said, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips.

He looked so much like her Vegeta that it _hurt._

“How have you been, Bulma-san?”

“I… I’m fine sir,” she said. “If I may ask, how long have you been here?”

“About half an hour. When I arrived, that lady at the front desk told me that Vegeta was still in surgery.”

“Oh…” she sighed. She had been hoping that Vegeta would be alright, by now. “Did the hospital call you?”

“Yes, as my son’s next of kin in his emergency contact list. I have also called Tarble, but he and Gure are in East City and will not make it here til morning.”

Bulma glanced at Vegeta’s phone on the table. “Sorry it didn’t occur to me to call you. I have Vegeta’s phone…”

“It’s probably password-protected anyway, Bulma-san,” he answered with a low laugh.

Bulma smiled. “How have you been, Ouji-sama?”

“Oh, quite well. Retirement is rather enjoyable, though I do miss the mayhem at work,” he grinned.

However, the grin began to slowly melt into a frown as he looked at her, and Bulma realized that he must have been observing her closely, all along.

“You, however,” he said, “are clearly _not_ as fine as you claimed. You look very pale, Bulma-san. You also look very tired.”

She forced a smile as she answered. “I am just very worried about Vegeta, Ouji-san.”

It was as his frown turned into something more amused that she realized her mistake.

She had been calling him _Vegeta_ in front of his _father._

She scrambled to think of something else to say, but he suddenly looked at something over her shoulder before he abruptly stood up.

Bulma turned, only to also stand up straight as she saw a tall man in a white lab coat standing at the entryway.

He was holding a clipboard, and was wearing a green hair cover over his head. Under his lab coat was a white uniform, and he was looking over at her and Ouji-sama.

It was the doctor that they had been waiting for.

Her breath lodged painfully in her throat, her heart pounding a harsh and heavy rhythm against her chest. She was anxious as she waited for him to speak, desperate to find out how Vegeta was doing.

She was so terrified that any words she may have had just froze in her throat, but Ouji-sama spoke up beside her.

“Are you my son’s doctor? Vegeta Ouji, he was in surgery.”

“Yes, I am. I am Dr. Piccolo,” the doctor responded, holding out a hand to Ouji-sama, and nodding lightly at Bulma.

“I suppose you are Ouji Vegeta Sr?” he paused as Ouji-sama nodded, before he turned his narrow eyes to Bulma.

“And you must be Bulma-san?”

Bulma nodded, thinking that Chichi must have briefed the doctor regarding who was in the waiting room.

The doctor’s amused smirk was unexpected.

“Bulma-san, I would advise you to see Ouji-san as soon as he wakes.”

_What?_

“I have come to inform you both regarding the patient’s condition. He was not critically injured, as you already know, but he did suffer from injuries that required immediate surgery.”

Both Bulma and Ouji-sama breathed small sighs of relief.

The doctor continued. “He sustained a very shallow head injury. We had to give him some stitches near his left temple. He had been bleeding, but no concussions or any other complications. His most severe injury was a fracture on his left ulna. We implanted an ORIF – an internal fixator – but he will definitely regain full use of that arm within a couple of months. He is unconscious now as we had given him some narcotics to help with his pain.”

Bulma couldn’t help the tears of relief that began to flow down her cheeks.

Vegeta was alive! He was going to be alright!

Her hand flew up to clutch at her necklace, her knees buckling slightly.

“Were there any problems during surgery, doctor? He was in there for a few hours,” asked Ouji-sama.

“He was in the Recovery Room for quite a while,” Dr. Piccolo said with a smile. “He was under observation because he was very quiet but his BP was very high. We later realized that he had been in severe pain but was refusing to let it show.”

Bulma laughed, a hoarse bark borne of her relief.

“ _That is really just like him… acting macho even when in pain,_ ” she thought fondly.

“When can we see him, doctor?” Ouji-sama asked.

“He is being brought into a private room, and Chichi-san will come and inform you once he has been transferred.”

“Doctor,” Bulma finally managed to choke out. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Glad to be of assistance, ma’am,” he smiled, before he turned and left.

Ouji-sama turned back to her, a wide grin on his face. The grin melted when he saw her swollen eyes and wobbly stance, and he reached forward, softly holding her elbow to guide her back to the chair.

“Come now, Bulma-san, he is going to be fine,” he said, reaching for a nearby tissue box and handing it to her.

She sniffled as she dabbed at her face, forcing a smile onto her lips as she regarded the older man before her.

“I am so sorry, I am really such a mess!” she said, a self-deprecating laugh accompanying her words. “I am just so happy that he is gonna be ok.”

“He will be. Vegeta has always been very strong and stubborn. He will defy even death, out of spite.”

Bulma burst into laughter, doubling over helplessly as she nodded.

“Yes, he certainly will,” she said, her smile brighter now. “Thank you Ouji-sama. And please do excuse me today. I am not quite myself.”

“Well Bulma-san, I will be more surprised, upset even, if you were composed tonight, seeing that you have _that_ necklace on you.”

Bulma’s hand flew to her throat, holding the pendant as she looked at Ouji-sama in surprise. She suddenly remembered that she had never once asked Vegeta, or even Tarble, about what the necklace could have meant.

“I… Could you please tell me why? Vegeta… he gave this to me but never said what it was about.”

The older Vegeta’s brows shot up. “He never told you?”

She shook her head, and he sighed.

“It figures that he would be too obstinate to explain something this important to you. But before I pick up my son’s communication slack, I need to know,” he paused, looking intently, seriously into her eyes. “My son… has he been treating you right?”

She nodded. “He… he is very good to me, Ouji-sama. He is too good, even when I…”

Bulma tore her gaze away, unable to look at him as she kept speaking. “Even when I am… _difficult._ I have not been as good to him as he has been to me.”

He looked away, as well, staring blankly at a wall, brows lowered thoughtfully.

“He loves you, Bulma-san.”

Even after Goku had told her this earlier, the words, coming from Vegeta’s own _father_ this time, still surprised her.

She turned to look at him again. “How do you know? And why are you telling me this?”

He smirked. “You’re all he talks about. He tries to downplay it, but whenever I see him nowadays, everything is Bulma this, Bulma that. He’d talk about your cooking, how you keep him organized… How you calm him down when he’s mad about something at work.”

He looked back at her, his eyes soft against the hard lines of his stern face. “I know my children. And Vegeta… he’s always been tougher than Tarble. More difficult to get through to. This is the first time he has ever been this way. And I am telling you this because he probably hasn’t, and the fact remains that…”

Bulma held her breath.

“The truth is, he needs you, Bulma. And seeing you here now, I can tell that you need him, too. You love my son, as he undoubtedly loves you.”

She could feel her lips tremble. “Ouji-sama…”

“Don’t doubt him, Bulma. And don’t doubt yourself, either. You are perfect for him. I have known, since the first time I met you, that you would be a good match for my son.”

She recalled his wide grin as they concluded her interview with Ouji Corp.

_“I see something in you, lass. You will be a good match…”_

_She blinked. “A good match for the company?”_

_He straightened then, his grin still firmly on his face. “Yes, of course..."_

She gasped, shocked as she finally realized…

“You… you were playing matchmaker?!”

“A little!” Ouji-sama laughed, a hand lifting to scratch behind his head, eyes nearly closed in his mirth.

“I… I can’t believe this! Ouji-sama!”

“Well I was right, was I not?” he asked, a wide smirk splitting across his face. “You see, I had been looking for a reason to retire for a long time, and when you came to Ouji, I found it in you. I was absolutely certain that my son would love you! And I figured, even if you didn’t fall for each other, you two would make a great team. But I was right! You did fall for each other! The necklace you wear is proof.”

Bulma glanced down, the glint of the beautiful necklace catching her eyes. She touched it again with the very tips of her fingers, before she whispered. “And… what exactly _is_ this necklace? Tarble was startled when he saw it on me.”

“That necklace, child,” he explained, looking down at the necklace, as well, “is a legacy. It is an Ouji tradition that dates back a few hundred years. All men born with the Ouji name are given one at age fifteen. The necklace is to be given to the woman that we wish to bring into the family, the woman that we believe to be _the one._ We usually give it to our women once we are very sure… Tarble, and even I, gave our necklaces to our respective wives the day before we wed. Tarble was undoubtedly surprised because that necklace is a sign that Vegeta is absolutely sure about you, even though you have only just met a few months ago.”

Bulma’s jaw dropped as she clutched the necklace again.

Vegeta had given it to her the night they first slept in his condo. Things were still so messy between them, and she had still been so conflicted, never knowing that he had already…

That he had already loved her.

He had already been _sure_ about her.

She furiously fought the tears that were still trying to push their way out.

She felt even worse now about all her indecision, as it became even more apparent to her that she had truly made _so many mistakes._

She lost the battle with her tears yet again, and she cried, burying her face into her hands.

She felt so ashamed, she couldn’t even look at Ouji-sama, knowing the pain she had caused his son.

The unnecessary pain she had caused them _both_.

If only she had been more sensitive to him! If only she had listened more to his kisses, hugs and actions, than to the words that he didn’t say.

She knew that Vegeta was never the type to say what he really felt unless it was anger, and she had stupidly kept hoping to hear him say an arbitrary set of words rather than to see what he had been trying to show her, all along.

He loved her. He had known it before she ever realized that she loved him, as well.

“Now there, lass,” Ouji-sama said, laying a hand on her shoulders that were quaking from the force of her sobbing. “Whatever happened between you two that wasn’t good… you can still fix it. Speak to my son. Apologize if you need to. You can still make this work. I need you to make Vegeta happy, Bulma-san.”

She looked up at him, sniffling, eyes red, cheeks puffy. “Ho-how were you so sure? That he would like me?”

Ouji-sama smiled, a wistful, far away look in his eyes, as if he was recalling a very vivid memory.

“Because, Bulma-san,” he said, “you remind me of his mother.”

He squeezed her shoulder before he stood, heading out of the waiting room, perhaps to inquire about Vegeta once more.

Less than a minute later, Goku returned to her side, holding a tissue box for her, and bursting full of newly acquired hospital gossip, courtesy of Chichi.

Vegeta had apparently been calling for Bulma while the OR nurses were placing him under anesthesia to begin working on his injuries. He only relaxed after one of the scrub nurses named Maron walked in. Maron had blue hair and was wearing OR scrubs and a mask, and Vegeta, in his groggy state, mistook her for Bulma.

After the surgery, he denied being in pain to all the attendants, who had gone crazy as to why his blood pressure was shooting up. One of them had the brilliant idea to send Maron in, and he finally admitted to being in pain after mistaking her for Bulma yet again.

Goku had Bulma laughing as he told her about drugged Vegeta’s antics, and Bulma felt a lot better as Ouji-sama came back and told her that Vegeta was now stable, settled in a hospital room.

“Visiting hours have passed, so I signed us up as patient companions so we can stay in the room, Bulma-san. Kakarot, I am sorry but they could only allow two and I chose Bulma-san.”

“Oh it’s no problem, Ouji-sama!” Goku said, getting up and stretching. “I could just nap here and go up when it’s ok to visit in the morning.”

They said their goodbyes, and Goku and Ouji-sama stood near the door to talk about something as Bulma picked up her wallet, and her and Vegeta’s phones.

As she picked up the items, she accidentally clicked on Vegeta’s phone’s home button, lighting up his phone display.

She stared as she registered the photo on his lock screen.

It was a candid shot of her, and she immediately recognized her dress from the night of the office party. She was standing near the entryway, smiling at something off-screen.

Her heart melted as she realized that he had been looking at her image on his phone every time he used his phone, even after their disastrous episode from the previous day.

All of the things she learned on this evening led her to a few very important realizations.

First: He truly did love her.

As much as she had been in denial, she understood that now, and would never let herself be convinced otherwise, again.

Second: She had been a fool.

A fool for not realizing it sooner… she had been a fool for letting her insecurities get in the way of her seeing his actions for what they were, for letting her foolish indecision interfere with their love.

Third: She needed him back.

She would beg him to take her back. She cannot live without him, and she refused to even envision a life without him.

And lastly: If it was up to her now, she would never leave him, would never forsake him, ever again.

Fuck her family. Fuck what people would say. Fuck the paparazzi and seriously, fuck _everything._ She loved Vegeta. Vegeta loved her. They belong together, and they _will_ be together.

She vows to never let him down ever again.

She promises herself, that once he wakes up, she will tell him how she feels.

8-8-8-8-8

Ouji-sama released a jaw-cracking yawn, popping his back as he attempted for perhaps the hundredth time to get comfortable on the hospital’s companion chair.

Vegeta’s hospital room was on the large side, holding his bed, two reclining chairs for his overnight companions, and two smaller chairs flanking a small round table. A mini fridge was against the wall near the bed, stocked with a few bottles of water and a small fruit bowl.

Bulma herself stretched discreetly, checking the time. It was six in the morning, and Vegeta was still conked out from the pain medication.

She had nearly cried again when she saw him on the bed, pale as a sheet, with a three-inch bandage on his temple and his left arm wrapped in thick bandages. An IV drip continuously fed more fluids into him through the cannula on the back of his right hand, and his breathing, though steady, was rather shallow.

He still had dried bits of blood clinging to his hair, and though the nurses had put him into a hospital gown, some dried blood was still on his skin, Betadine marking his skin reddish brown where it had been smeared on his cuts and bruises and edging the bandages where the doctors had operated on him.

She had pushed his hair back from his face, and uncaring of present company, she had kissed him lightly on his lips before she took her place on one of the large chairs.

“Bulma-san,” Ouji-sama called. “Would you like to get some food and coffee?”

Bulma was about to shake her head “no” when her stomach gave a very loud and embarrassing growl. She felt heat flood her face as Ouji-sama smirked, before he stood up and motioned for her to come along.

They both went to the hospital restaurant, where the smell of food suddenly reminded Bulma that she actually had not eaten anything substantial in 24 hours.

She inhaled her bagel, before she wrapped her hands around the paper cup of coffee, letting the warmth fill her.

Just as she and Ouji-sama had decided to go back to Vegeta’s room, his cellphone rings.

He looked at the caller ID, then heaved a sigh. “Bulma-san, I have to take this call. Please do go back to Vegeta’s room and I will be there with you shortly.”

She made her way back to the room, smiling at the nurses filling their charts at the nurses’ station.

“Miss,” one nurse called. “We have Ouji-san on a soft diet today. Breakfast will be brought up to his room by seven.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, before she headed to Vegeta’s room and softly pushed the fire-door open.

She turned to gently close the door, wincing at the very slight creak, before she turned back to her sleeping patient.

Only, he wasn’t sleeping anymore.

His eyes were still narrowed lethargically, but he was clearly looking at her, posed as if he was attempting to get up from the bed.

“Bulma?” he asked, voice gravelly, almost inaudible.

Her heart stopped as she stared into those dark eyes that, just a few agonizing hours ago, she thought she would never see staring back at her ever again.

“Vegeta…”

She rushed to him, barely restraining herself from enveloping him in a tight embrace as she kept his injuries in mind. Her hands gently hovered over him as she couldn’t keep her eyes off him, greedily taking in his form that, though banged up, was definitely whole and _alive._

Vegeta, on his part, reached up to her with his uninjured hand, softly touching her face.

The gentle caress pulled a single tear from her eye, and she felt as it travelled down her cheek to drip softly onto his bed.

“Bulma… you’re here,” he whispered, a slight tinge of awe in his soft voice.

Her hand reached up, holding his warm hand against her cheek.

“Yes, I’m here. And I promise to always be here, Vegeta.”

His eyes widened slightly at her words. “What…”

“Vegeta… I’m not leaving. I want to stay with you,” she whispered fervently.

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, as she prepared to say the words she had sworn to say to him as soon as he woke up.

“I love you,” she finally whispered, trembling, even as the words flowed smoothly, surely from her lips.

His small but brilliant answering smile… was the most beautiful thing that Bulma had ever seen.

8-8-8-8-8

_To be continued…_


	8. Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Vegeta is out of danger, he and Bulma finally come clean about their feelings for each other. They both acknowledge that the road ahead may not be easy, but they could face any challenge, as long as they face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is the second to the last chapter of Impasse! Aaaayyy, I am so thrilled that I am almost done with this story! I can’t believe that this little fic that started as a one-shot has turned into a full story that has become very close to my heart.
> 
> This chapter will contain lots of fluff and a long bit of smut towards the end. I hope you like it!
> 
> And please, if you have any questions or loose ends that you would like to see tied up, leave me a comment so I can be sure to include it and give closure in the next (the last!) chapter.
> 
> Your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

 

Bulma rested her head on the hospital bed, beside Vegeta’s pillow. Her hand was on his left hand, gently stroking his skin as she wistfully stared up at his sleeping face.

He was alive. He was fine.

And she loves him.

She had finally said the words, and as she did, it was as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders, freeing her from the constraints that had held her back from fully loving him and letting herself be with him before.

She was determined, more than ever, to always love this man, to always show him that she loves him, to be as good to him as he had always been to her.

She still couldn’t quite understand what it was that made him love her, but she was going to find out, and she was going to nurture his heart for as long as he was willing to give her his love.

After she had confessed her feelings to him, he had given her the most heart meltingly sweet smile she had ever seen, a smile so serene that she had never thought she would ever see it on his face.

He had motioned for her to come closer, and as she did, he craned his neck so his lips could plant a gentle kiss on hers.

It was light… little more than a flutter against her lips, but the feelings that rushed through her at his wordless response floored her, caused her heart to shatter and rebuild all at once.

She had cried beside him, her hair falling limply across his chest as she hunched over the bed at his side. He had quietly watched her, letting the strands of her hair flow through the fingers of his right hand as he hushed her, comforted her as she tried to comfort him.

Ouji-sama had come in as she was drying her tears, and he had laughed loudly in his relief at seeing his son conscious after his accident.

When breakfast was rolled in by the hospital staff, Bulma had taken it upon herself to feed him, laughing lightly as he turned his nose up at the food in distaste.

He had gone back to sleep after his meal, and Ouji-sama had left Bulma in the room with Vegeta as Tarble and Gure arrived, so the Oujis could speak with the Insurance and Billing team regarding his bills and discharge schedule.

She straightened as a groan left him, his brows knotting together.

“Vegeta?” she called softly. “Are you in pain?”

“Bulma?” he asked, his eyes fluttering open.

“Yes, I’m here. Are you alright? I can call the nurse,” she said, reaching out for the call bell.

He shook his head. “No, I’m ok.”

“Are you sure?”

“I could… I could use some help sitting up,” he said.

She nodded, reaching down the side of the bed to the controls that the nurse had shown her earlier. The bed can recline or raise according to the patient’s preference, so she pushed on the button to make the upper half of the bed tilt up, setting Vegeta up into a slight sitting position.

She helped him pull the pillow up until he was nice and comfortable, leaning back against the bed, sitting at a level with Bulma on the small chair that she had pulled up to his side.

They were now eye to eye, and Bulma fussed with his blankets, pulling them up to his chest while carefully maneuvering the linen so his injured arm was not disturbed.

“Bulma,” he called, his voice still hoarse, probably scratched up a little while he was intubated in surgery.

“Yeah?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

“We… we need to talk. _Really_ talk,” he said.

“Vegeta, you’re injured. I don’t think you should strain yourself,” she said, lifting a hand to push his hair away from his face.

“It won’t be a strain. I just… I need to do this while all this shit is floating around my head. I wanna get _us_ sorted out.”

She sighed.

“Promise you’ll go back to sleep if you get too tired?”

He nodded.

She took a deep breath.

“Alright. I’ll start,” she said. She looked deep into his eyes, her hand finding the tips of the fingers of his left hand, softly playing with them as she spoke.

“Vegeta… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she felt a lump begin to rise at the back of her throat. “I have been so stupid. I never meant to be so difficult. I was just so confused, and I… I was scared. I was scared of what I felt. I was scared of my family. I was scared that I was reading too much into what we had and I panicked. I have never…”

A sob cut her words off, but she pushed on. “I have never felt this way before. I needed you so much, and I couldn’t understand why. And when I finally figured out I was in love with you… I tried to ignore my problems, I… that weekend at the cabin? It will always be my most treasured memory. Because I let myself go, I just let myself _feel._ I am… I am so…”

The tears began to brim over, and she watched through watery eyes as his dark eyes narrowed, asking her to continue.

“Vegeta, I am so in love with you. And I don’t know if I will ever be enough for you. I’m petty and immature and I am such an impossible person and I don’t deserve you. You have put up with so much from me and I hate myself for putting you through this. You’re… you’re probably better off without me.”

He kept watching her, and he took a deep breath before he spoke. “Do you… do you _want_ to be without me?”

She shook her head furiously. “No! I… My heart… my heart can’t take it.”

“Bulma,” he said. “Listen to me. I… when I am with you… it’s like every dream I have ever had has come true. But this past week, it’s been hell, woman. I won’t deny it. You’ve made my life so fucking complicated, and yet…”

He kept his eyes on hers as he continued. “And yet… even if my life would be easier and less complicated without you… I don’t want to be without you. I _can’t_ be without you. Because as much as you infuriate me sometimes… I need you with me.”

She took in a shaky breath, about to speak, when he held up his right hand, indicating that he had more to say.

“I am also not without blame. I realize now that I really should have spoken to you more about… about _my_ heart.”

He shook slightly, his eyes dropping to the necklace on her chest. “If I hadn’t been so terrified to breach this, then maybe all these… problems… would not have arisen. I never even told you what that necklace means.”

“Vegeta, please, don’t ever blame yourself. I was the one who was running away…”

“And I was the one who never gave you a reason not to,” he whispered. “I have known for a long time… hell, I told _Raditz_ that I couldn’t get you out of my head. Then the party happened, and…”

“I had been with a few other women before, but _nothing_ had ever compared, had even come close, to that night, Bulma. It was amazing, and you… you were so utterly breathtaking. It was beyond pleasure… you had touched my _soul_.”

“It was then that I became absolutely sure that I would never again want anyone else. You are the only woman for me. And instead of telling you this, I acted like a stupid fucking Casanova, seducing you instead of wooing you. I… I must have confused you, as well.”

She gulped, “Vegeta…”

“Bulma, forgive me.”

She raised shocked eyes to him. “Vegeta!”

“I had forgiven you for everything before I drove off yesterday. I understood you already. I was going to the cabin… It was the last place where we had been happy and I thought, if I was there, I could clear my head. I wanted to find another way to ask you to come back. And right before my accident, I figured out that what I had to do was tell you the truth, in words that you deserve to hear.”

Bulma held her breath as she saw his own eyes brighten suspiciously, and she realized that Vegeta had been holding tears back.

“Vegeta, what are you trying to say?”

“I am trying to tell you… that I love you, Bulma.”

A sob broke through her lips, eyes wide and overflowing with tears as she lifted a hand up to caress his bruised cheek.

He brought his uninjured hand up to hold her hand against him, nuzzling into her palm as he spoke fervently. “I’m not an easy person to get to know. But you have put up with me and… for some reason, you love me. And while I am endlessly grateful, I need to know that you have forgiven me, too.”

 “Vegeta… I love you,” she cried. “And I was never angry at you, but for what you think you have done to hurt me, then yes, I forgive you. Please, let’s try this again. With all cards on the table. I want to… I need to make this work.”

He nodded. “We have to learn to talk. We need to talk about things. No more guessing. I will try, and I need you to help me get better, Bulma…”

Bulma stroked his face with her fingertips as she responded, “Yes. We’re both new at this… relationship thing. We’ll learn together. How’s that?”

He nodded. “Perfect. And… I suppose… are you my girlfriend now?”

She laughed, giddy peals of laughter through the torrent of happy tears. “Only if you're my boyfriend.”

“Acceptable.”

He was about to say more, when a large yawn broke from him, and he turned his face away as his mouth opened wide.

She giggled, her hand on him stroking his head, his hair, while her other hand hastily rubbed her tears away with the neck of her shirt.

“Go back to sleep Vegeta, I will still be here when you wake up.”

8-8-8-8-8

.

True to her word, Bulma waited until he woke up again so that she would be there when he did. After he woke, Ouji-sama, Tarble, Gure and Goku were all in the room, and she finally decided to head home for a while to take a shower and pack some clothes for another two days’ stay at the hospital. He was expected to be discharged on the third day, and she planned to spend every waking moment at his side.

The feel of the water against her skin felt divine, and after her shower, she turned her television on as she dressed, needing some background noise to distract her from her ongoing worry for Vegeta.

She nearly dropped her clothes when she realized exactly what was on TV.

It was a flash news report, showing Vegeta’s smashed up car in what appeared to be a towing garage, interspersed with flashes of South-West Medical Center.

She turned the volume up to hear what was being said.

“… CEO, Vegeta Ouji, has been reported to be in stable condition following the car crash. The hospital personnel here at South-West has not released an official statement regarding the extent of his injuries, but sources have stated that he had sustained fractures and blunt force trauma.”

“The Ouji family is with him at the moment, and there have been rumors going around that his girlfriend, whose identity has been largely speculated at, will be back shortly, as well. We will keep you all updated on-”

Bulma turned the television off as disgust filled her. She hated reporters and the paparazzi. They were vultures, and she had been surrounded by them nearly her whole life. She was relieved that they had not been as viscous in South City as they had been in West, but with Vegeta having been brought to a hospital at the border of the two cities, she supposed it was about time that she was reunited with some _old friends._

She chewed on her nails as she headed to the hospital, fighting back the anxiety that had been building up in her.

She shook her head forcefully. _No._ She had promised Vegeta that she would be there for him, and she would face a few cameras for him, should they recognize her. Which, she was sure, they will.

She realized she was correct when, upon parking her car and approaching the entrance to the hospital, a flock of reporters began to rush at her, microphones and cameras pointed at her, and she groaned at the thought of facing the reporters.

“Just like old times,” she mumbled with a grimace.

Well... At least she had changed into decent enough clothes, now.

She wore jeans and a simple pink shirt, whose neckline was low enough that her crescent necklace was now proudly on display. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she had put on some powder and gloss so she could at least look pretty for her sick boyfriend.

Vegeta. _Her boyfriend._

She hid a secret smile behind her hand, keeping her head low as the reporters neared, determinedly watching her feet as she kept walking.

“Ms. Bulma Briefs! It’s Ms. Bulma Briefs!”

“Ms. Bulma! It has been months since you were last spotted-”

“Is it true that you have been working with Ouji Enterprises-”

“Have you really moved into South Cit-”

A particularly pushy reporter came up, rudely shoving his microphone into her face.

“Ms. Bulma, there have been rumors swirling lately that you have been working for, and have been dating Vegeta Ouji. Care to clarify?”

She raised her head at this.

She looked the reporter dead in the eye…

Took a deep, steadying breath…

“Yes, the rumors are true. I am in a _committed relationship_ with Vegeta Ouji. Now, if you will kindly excuse me…”

She smiled gratefully as two security guards – one blond female and one dark-haired male, who looked identical save for the colors of their chin-length hair – came up to push the reporters back so she can make it into the hospital.

As she arrived back at Vegeta’s room, she sighed in relief as she pushed the door open…

Only to find five pairs of eyes staring at her in various states of surprise or delight.

She looked up, and groaned aloud when she saw that they were all tuned in to the _gods damned_ TV station that showed live footage of what had been going on outside the hospital.

She had no doubt, from Goku’s and Ouji-sama’s mischievous grins, Tarble’s and Gure’s awed expressions, and Vegeta’s profoundly smug smirk, that they had all seen her impromptu interview.

She shook her head with a laugh as she shrugged.

“Um… surprise?”

Turned out, no one was _actually_ surprised.

8-8-8-8-8

.

Vegeta had been discharged from the hospital four weeks ago, and Bulma had been enforcing the doctor’s orders on his stubborn ass _every single day_ since then.

No strain on the left arm. Take the pain medication when in pain. Extremely simple orders that her equally bullheaded lover seemed to find impossible to follow.

She had taken it upon herself to drive him around whenever she could, especially after she found out that the _stupid man_ had been looking at his _stupid phone_ during the accident and he had nearly been unable to veer away from the oncoming drunk driver because he was _stupid_ and distracted at the wheel.

She had screamed at him, various levels of “I told you so”, as she reminded him of the many times she had told him not to use his phone while driving.

That afternoon, a bright and cheerful Saturday, she and Vegeta had gone to the local cemetery, to the Ouji mausoleum, so she could “meet” his mother.

“I promised her that I would pick a woman that she would approve of. I just wanted to show her that I kept my word,” he had told her, and she had been so happy that she had kissed him on the mouth in the middle of the café they had been sitting at.

Still unused to public displays of affection, he had turned from her with a huff, but not before she saw the blush on his cheeks.

They had been speaking seriously since the accident, intent on communicating more, and they learned more about each other on those weeks than in all the months they had been together before.

Now on their way home, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, Bulma held tightly on to the wheel as she made up her mind about her next course of action.

She was driving his brand new blue SUV, having left her beat-up car in his condo’s parking garage after she picked him up to go to the cemetery.

They came upon a fork in the road, and to the right, would be the road leading to his condo.

She took a sharp left.

Vegeta sat up straighter, looking back in confusion towards the other direction.

“Bulma… we were supposed to go that way,” he said, pointing behind them.

“Really?” she asked, remembering a similar scenario when he had done the same thing to her.

“My condo is to the right, woman.”

“Yes it is.”

He blinked at that. “Then why are we going the wrong way?”

“Because we are not going to your condo, Vegeta.”

“Where are we going, then?” he asked impatiently, no doubt suspicious of the grin that she had felt forming on her lips.

She ignored him as she took another turn, a shortcut that she had just recently discovered, and before he knew it, she had idled the car in front of her apartment building.

Bulma turned to grin at him, taking in his wide eyes.

She had told him before, that her flat was her little sanctuary that no one but she had ever gone into.

She was finally ready to _let him in_.

She pushed on the gas to move the car again, until she had parked into her usual parking space.

She hopped off the driver’s seat, not looking at him as she nervously twisted her hand around the chain of her crescent necklace.

She felt him approaching her, then his right hand found her left, twining their fingers together, tugging slightly until she looked back at him.

His eyes were soft, gleaming happily as he spoke, “Come on, now. I want to see your home.”

They were silent as they made their way upstairs to her flat, and her hand shook as she put her key into the lock on the main door.

The door swung open, and she moved aside, motioning for him to step in before her.

He did, and as she watched him look around her tiny apartment, her heart burst at the sudden realization that filled her mind and soul.

With Vegeta in her life, in her beloved private sanctuary…

_Now_ , she was truly home.

8-8-8-8-8

.

Vegeta laughed as he looked at an old photo of Bulma as a child, wearing a large pink sweater with her name proudly stamped in large bold letters on the front.

She had been bored one day, three years ago, and had decided to convert all of her favorite childhood photos into digital images that she had placed into the cloud. She had saved all of those into her laptop, which now sat on the small coffee table before them as they snacked on biscuits and chocolate on her couch.

“Why on earth do you have your name on all of your clothes? Were you afraid of getting lost, _Bulma?”_ he asked teasingly as he turned to the next photo, this time of her as a pre-teen in another atrocious getup, but this time, the _Bulma_ was on her baseball cap.

“Hey! I thought it was cool, alright?” she defended, pressing the key to make the pictures move on to the next.

The next photo was of her and a scruffy-looking boy with a large scar on his cheek.

“Oh, and who is this?” Vegeta asked.

“That’s Yamcha, my first boyfriend.”

“Your first _what.”_

“Vegeta, relax, I was fifteen, nothing happened. He was too terrified to even touch my hand.”

“Tch,” he remarked, before he turned to the next photo.

They both froze.

“Oh my God is that…” she whispered.

“Bulma, is that…?” he asked, zooming into the photo.

It was Bulma as a flower girl at the wedding of one of their wealthy family friends, when she had been about four years old. She had been wearing a fluffy, pink taffeta dress, and the picture was taken during the wedding march.

Beside her, wearing a decidedly angry expression, was her escort, a young boy of about ten…

With suspiciously familiar, flame-shaped black hair.

“Oh my God! Vegeta! That’s you!” she shrieked, pulling the laptop off the table so they could stare incredulously at the photo.

“I remember that wedding, I hated that stupid suit,” he groused.

“Oh come off it, you looked cute!” she said, mentally debating on whether or not she should make her next silly confession.

Oh what they hell. They were supposed to communicate, were they not?

“I can’t believe it… Vegeta, I had a massive crush on my wedding march partner for weeks. And it turned out to be you!”

He turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Are you serious?”

“Yes! Oh my God, look at me here! I’m totally blushing!” she said, pointing at younger Bulma’s very red cheeks. “My first ever crush was this boy in the wedding. I remember telling my dad that I was…”

“What?” he asked when she cut herself off. “Telling him what?”

A furious blush rose to her cheeks. “I… I told my dad that I was gonna be the bride next time, and I was gonna marry that boy. What are the odds that it was you!”

Vegeta grinned. “I guess we were always meant to be together, then,” he said, the playfulness of his tone belying the suddenly serious look in his eyes.

She sensed the change in the atmosphere immediately.

They had not been intimate since their cabin outing over a month ago, and it was the longest time they had gone without since they first slept together.

Bulma put the laptop back on the table, pushing the screen down to let the laptop sleep.

She raised a hand, letting her fingers hover over the soft skin of his cheek, his tiny cuts from the accident all but gone.

He, in turn, lifted his right hand to her chin, tenderly cupping her there as he leaned forward…

They both lunged forward at the same time, their lips passionately meeting in a powerful clash of tongue and teeth, their desperation and need for each other evident in the way they both reached out, madly pulling at the other’s clothes while their mouths danced furiously with each other.

She wrenched his button-up shirt open, uncaring of the buttons that snapped off, while he reached down to the edge of her skirt to hike it up, until his fingers were teasing around the edges of her panties along her upper thighs.

She broke away from his kiss to throw her head back, a loud gasp escaping her as he ran his teeth along the side of her neck, leaving little bites along her throat, catching the chain of her necklace with his tongue.

She felt him shrug off his ruined shirt, before she felt his hands clasp her around the waist, pulling her thin blouse up as his hands travelled higher, cupping her breasts through her clothes and making her groan in anticipation.

“Bulma,” he rasped. “I need you.”

“Take me to bed, Vegeta.”

She rose as he did, and mindful of his still healing left arm, she tugged on his right hand, pulling him in the direction of her bedroom.

When they got there, he did not even give her the chance to close to the door before he was on her, pressing her back against the wall as he attacked her neck with his mouth, his restless hands roving over every inch of skin he could reach.

She managed to clear her mind for a moment, as she whispered, “Vegeta, your arm…”

He seemed intent on ignoring her as he pulled back, only to pull her shirt over her head, his hands quickly palming her heaving breasts.

“Vegeta!” she protested half heartedly as he began to knead her flesh through her lace bra, and a whimper of pleasure escaped her as she pushed her chest harder into his palms.

“What?” he asked roughly as she felt her bra loosen, and she realized that he had unclasped her bra from the front.

“Please… your arm,” she hissed, using tremendous force of will to push him back.

He finally pulled away, panting harshly, staring at his injured arm in disgust.

She smiled, shrugging her bra off completely before she placed a hand on his bare chest.

“Hey,” she whispered, and he looked back her with soft eyes, taking in her heaving breasts, and the golden necklace that glinted against her throat in the dying light of the setting sun filtering in through her window.

“Just… let’s take this slow, ok?” she said, dropping her hands to the waistband of his pants, before her hands began to unclasp the button of his jeans, pulling his zipper down so she could push his pants off him.

He obediently kicked his pants off, leaving him in tight black boxers that hugged the tops of his thick thighs and concealed the heavy bulge of his manhood.

She reached for him, pulling him into her arms and kissing him sweetly, letting her tongue play softly with his as her hands roamed his muscular back.

Her hands drifted down until she was cupping his butt cheeks, and she gave them a playful squeeze before she pulled away once again, but not before biting the lobe of his ear to whisper to him, “Lay on the bed.”

He nodded, doing as he was told, while she stood at the foot of her bed, blushing profusely at what she was about to do.

When he was settled, head on one of her pillows, she placed a hand on the waistband of her skirt, gyrating in the air slowly as she pushed the garment down the length of her legs.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as she turned around, bending forward so her ass was in the air as she wriggled out of her skirt.

“Bulma,” he called, edging on a whine.

She giggled to herself as she turned around, then, very slowly, began to crawl over to him.

When she was on top of him, face to face with him, she carefully leaned down so that the entire length of her body was flush with his. Her hips brushed against his hardness, her hardened nipples rubbed against his defined pecs, as she reached for his chin, tilting his head so she can plant an open-mouthed kiss on his waiting lips.

His mouth moved desperately against her, plunging in deeply as she let him explore the caverns of her mouth. His teeth clicked against hers while his tongue tangled with her tongue, and all the while, her hands ran slowly, up and down his sides, soothing him even as she aroused him with her tender touches.

“Vegeta,” she whispered against his lips as his hands travelled up to tangle in her hair, pulling at the strands while he held her head close.

One of her own hands reached up to play with the thick dark strands of his hair, circling his ear and eliciting a shiver from the man beneath her.

She pulled away, before she began to crawl downwards, her fingers tickling along his body until she held the edge of his boxers in her hands.

“I have missed the taste of you, my love,” she murmured as she began to pull his underwear off, but his agonized voice stopped her.

“Bulma… I need to taste you too. Turn over,” he asked.

At first, she didn’t understand. “ _Turn over?”_ she thought, until she realized.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the blush going back to her cheeks as she finally got it.

Slowly, she moved so that her own panty-clad core was near his head, her legs lightly straddling the sides of his head, while her mouth hovered over his clothed member.

She hurriedly pushed his boxers off until she was face to face with his marvelous naked cock, already beginning to weep for her touch.

She was startled when she felt his fingers begin to rub across the cleft of her pussy, through the flimsy material of her panties.

“You’re so wet already, Bulma,” he rasped, before she felt him push her panties to the side so her lower lips peeked from the side of the tiny scrap of cloth.

“And you’re…” she gulped, still unused to speaking so freely about their activities. “You’re so… hard.”

That was apparently the right thing to say, as he groaned, before she felt one of his fingers move along her cleft before plunging into her core. She gasped, grabbing hold of his hard cock and involuntarily squeezing slightly as she felt him please her.

He moaned as she held him, and gathering her willpower, she moved forward so that her mouth hovered over the bulbous tip of him. She breathed hotly onto his cock, one hand pumping his shaft slowly, as the other ventured down to gently cup the heavy sacks between his thighs.

He bucked up suddenly, grinding against her hands as he let his finger plunge into her depths.

She gasped, staring down at the reddened head of his member, her mouth watering as she leaned down and took him in.

He called out her name, before she felt him wrench her hips down, making her practically sit on his face, before she felt his mouth move against her core.

She gasped harshly, his member still in her mouth, and as she did, she widened her mouth, letting more of him in.

He groaned against her core, the sinful vibrations sending untold thrills throughout her body, charging her nerves with little shocks of electricity as she bobbed her head up and down on him, her hands massaging his sacks and pumping up and down his shaft.

His tongue entered her and she moaned, feeling his fingers spreading her lower lips open as he devoured her, lapping up her essence, feeding from her ecstasy.

She moved faster over him, sucking on him, humming against his cock, while he too worked on her vigorously, his fingers pumping a maddening rhythm into her core as his beautiful lips closed over her, his tongue flicking quickly at the swollen nub of pleasure above her opening.

He blew softly into her, before he nipped quickly at her bud…

Bulma shattered, pulling her mouth away from him as she threw her head back, and she pulled her hands way from his manhood to clutch fiercely at his powerful thighs as her orgasm wrenched a fierce scream from deep within her chest.

She raised her hips after she realized that she had been grinding her core against his mouth, and he was lazily licking her juices as she did.

“Vegeta,” she whimpered against his thighs, before she moved up, and with dexterity she didn’t know she possessed, she turned to face him, and pulled her panties off while she moved to straddle his waist. 

She rubbed her butt against his erection, moving down until she felt him between her lower lips, and she pushed down so she was grinding his member between her hips and his lower stomach.

Vegeta gasped, his fists clenching the sheets, before his right hand moved up to hold her hip, steadying her movements.

“Stop teasing me, woman,” he muttered hoarsely, the sexy sound sending shivers down her spine.

She nodded, moving so she was kneeling with her knees on either side of him, before she reached down, tenderly holding his cock in her hand.

Very slowly, she sank down onto him, imprinting every sensation that rushed through her as she took him in, inch by inch, until she was seated on him snugly, his sacks soft against her bottom.

He was moaning beneath her as she moved her hips in a circular motion, not raising herself, keeping all of him within her as she ground down.

The sight of him losing control beneath her was excruciatingly arousing, her heart bursting as she thought of the fact that this man… this man who was one with her at that moment… was _her_ man.

Bulma’s vision was dimming with pleasure, and unable to take her own teasing actions, she leaned down, braced her hands against his chest, and began to move up and down.

She was breathing hard, twisting in agonizing delight every time she took him within her, and she could hear him continuously whispering encouragements as she moved over him.

She threw her head back as he felt his right hand clutch her breast, squeezing it gently while his hips began to pump up and down as well, helping her as the rhythm of her movements against him began to falter.

She was cumming again, she could feel it in her every pore, and she groaned loudly as she desperately moved against him, up and down, grinding on him, gyrating her hips in circles as she tried to reach for that incomparable peak of pleasure that only Vegeta had ever, would ever, bring her to.

“Vegeta!” she cried, eyes pinched closed as her blunt nails raked across his perfect chest, and she leaned down, her breasts dangling heavily between them as she moved faster, chasing the rhapsody that was just beyond her reach.

She was almost there.

“Bulma,” he moaned her name, and she opened her eyes to look upon his face.

His eyes were half-lidded, his lower lip between his teeth while his nose flared, trying to breathe her in.

He looked so amazingly beautiful that she lost control, her limbs seizing up as her orgasm robbed her of her senses once again.

She shook, greedily clutching him in her arms before she realized that she had slumped against his chest, and she was now flush against every single inch of him as he bucked against her from below, his right hand squeezing her buttocks as he pumped in and out of her.

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling the strength of his love and his desire in every line of his body.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him, wanting to hear his every moan and gasp, to feel the goosebumps rising across his skin as he too clambered to reach his peak.

He wrapped his left arm around her waist, while his left hand reached up, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her hair back and gifted her with an unbelievably sensuous kiss.

She moaned deeply into his mouth, pushing her hips against his, needing to feel as much of him against her as possible, and she whispered his name in reverence as he pulled her head back to hold her face against his neck.

“Vegeta ,” she groaned, her breaths fanning across his throat. “I need you… I love you…”

He gave an answering groan, holding her tighter, “Bulma… My Bulma… I love you…”

“Vegeta please!” she cried out, pulling away from his grasp on her head to push her lips against his once again, kissing him for all she was worth while her hips danced a frenzied beat with his own.

“Cum with me,” she begged as she gave a twist to her hips, her hands squeezing his shoulders.

“Wait for me,” he gasped, eyes closed as he arched his neck, jaw slack as he concentrated on the feel of them.

“Always,” she whispered. “I love you, Vegeta.”

Her words, as well as the erotic movements of her body, pushed him over the edge, and she felt as he stiffened, his arms tightening unbelievably around her as he hoarsely shouted her name in the throes of his passion.

The sensations, her feelings, and the rush of his love within her body all came together, and with tears in her eyes, Bulma came once more, sobbing his name in rhapsody.

As they slowly came down, Bulma felt his hands stroking her head, his fingers travelling along the curve of her spine.

“I love you,” he whispered again, and her heart fluttered as her very soul sang with happiness.

She snuggled deeper within his embrace, kissing his chest, eyes wet with happy tears as she whispered the words back, knowing that she meant them… and that she would always mean them.

They had finally broken through their stalemate.

Their feelings won over all the other things that had kept them from being together before.

And Bulma smiled as she realized… that at long last…

The impasse was finally over.

8-8-8-8-8

_._

_Next Chapter: Epilogue_


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of Impasse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it. My first Vegebul multi-chapter fanfic is over! I legit feel like crying, because I am so happy that I actually completed this fic. This story started just from a one-shot inspired by a cute little fanart that I found on tumblr, and has somehow turned into this story that helped me explore not just these characters, but facets of myself, as well.  
> Also, because of this story, I have met and interacted with so many wonderful people, have received amazing writing tips and inspiration, and I am really very, very thankful to all of you who liked, commented, kudos’d, favorite/bookmarked and reblogged this story. You all made it possible for me to push through and finish this story, so from the very bottom of my heart, thank you so much to all of you!  
> Let’s get on with this then! The final chapter of Impasse.  
> And as always… your feedback will be greatly appreciated!

Bulma hummed a small tune as she drove, her shiny new periwinkle hybrid car gleaming as it sped down the highway.

She knew she was speeding just a tiny bit, but it was Friday, and she really couldn’t wait to get home that day.

She was bursting at the seams with excitement, dying to share her most recent discovery with the dark-haired man waiting for her at home.

She stopped at a red light, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she impatiently waited for the light to turn green.

The rays of the setting sun reached for her through her lightly-tinted car windows, bouncing off the shiny, intricately-engraved golden ring and its grander diamond-topped twin on her left ring finger.

She smiled, excited to see Vegeta.

Vegeta… Her husband.

It had been five years since she had met him, since she had first looked into the piercing eyes of the man she would later fall madly in love with.

Three years since he, at their annual office party, got down on one knee before her, and with the entire staff of Ouji Enterprises as their witness, asked her to become his wife.

It had been nearly two years since she walked down an aisle littered with blue flower petals, her bouquet of light blue roses and hydrangea clutched tightly in her hands, and promised her mind, body and soul to the only man she would ever cherish more than life itself.

He was truly the love of her life, and she was determined to make sure that he knew it, felt it, every single day…

Which was the reason why he needed to be the first one she told about her entire life’s most amazing discovery.

She slammed down on the gas, giddy as she saw the roof of their medium-sized mansion, nestled among the trees, smack down the border of the South and West Cities.

It was a strategic spot. It was only half an hour away from both of their places of work.

He at Ouji Ent…

And she at Capsule Corp.

Vegeta had taken it upon himself to help the Briefs reconcile. Several months after Bulma had admitted to the public that they were together following his car accident, he had pulled strings to, without Bulma’s knowledge, gain an appointment with Dr. Briefs.

They had spoken at length about her, him promising her father that he was going to look after her and be there for her, before he begged them to leave Bulma alone to find herself.

She had been livid about his interference, but he had simply said that he knew, deep down, that she still loved her family in spite of their issues… and she had nothing to fear from them now, as he would be there with her, standing with her, to keep her strong, all the way.

She had later gone back to her family home to speak with her parents, and with her hand in Vegeta’s warm grasp, she had looked at her father and mother…

.

8-8- _Flashback_ -8-8

.

“I am happy. I am very happy right now. Vegeta,” she paused as she choked back tears, and he squeezed her hand in support. “Vegeta makes me happy. My job right now, makes me happy. And I don’t care if you think I’m a harlot,” she glanced at her mother, “for dating my boss. Because this thing between us is _real_.”

Her father had sat straight, brows knitted together as he responded. “Bulma... If you two are in love, then I am glad that you have found each other. Your mother and I… We are your parents, and we want you to be happy, dear.”

“Then I need you both to promise that whatever I do, you’ll be happy for me. I need to know that you won’t try to stop me from discovering more about myself, because as much as I am your daughter, I am also my own person,” she paused to glance at the dark-haired man sitting beside her. “Vegeta makes me happy because he supports me. He gives me my freedom and lets me have a choice. My life is up to me, and he has never tried to force or impose himself and his decisions on me. I need that kind of support from you two, as well.”

Panchy refused to look at Bulma as she spoke, her voice light and airy, but Bulma sensed the underlying seething in the blonde woman’s tone.

“You would abandon us for him? Your family who raised you, gave you everything you needed and wanted… just to prove a point?” Panchy asked.

Bulma gasped, utterly mortified as fury crawled through her veins.

She opened her mouth to reply, but a stern voice beat her to the punch.

“If I may interject, Briefs-san,” Vegeta spoke, pulling all of their attention to him.

His face and tone remained polite, nearly impassive, but Bulma could tell from the way his hand curled convulsively around her fingers, and his eyes had darkened in his barely leashed rage, that he had reached his boiling point.

“Bulma did not join Ouji to _prove a point._ She wanted to discover herself, find her own way. She is not _abandoning_ you, but she had distanced herself from you because she needed room to grow, which is something that in your _overprotectiveness_ ,” he paused, his teeth grinding in agitation. “she was having a hard time finding. I cannot promise to be the perfect person towards her, but I can guarantee you this… with me, she will be free to learn all she can about herself. And I will stand by her. Because I cherish your daughter, as I am sure you do, as well.”

Her heart clenched, and she could feel his love for her enveloping her, giving her the courage to push forward and make her parents understand that she didn’t hate them, but she was done being a child.

She was a grown woman. A woman who had been lucky enough to find and fall in love with a wonderful man who, amazingly, loved her back.

“Please remember that it was Vegeta who wanted me to talk to you,” she said through gritted teeth, causing her father to wince, and her mother to blink. “I never would have found the will or desire to come here if not for him, so don’t suggest that he is the reason I have turned away... He is the reason, the _only_ reason, I am trying to clear things between us now. I would prefer to have you in my life, but I will not hesitate to turn away again if you cannot accept that I am my own person, and the decisions about my career and personal life are mine to make.”

She stood, Vegeta following suit. As they made their way to the door, she turned back slightly as she remembered something else.

“By the way, Tights called a week ago. She and Kaito, Jaco’s father, are getting married. If you’d like to attend the wedding this fall, you know how to find her.”

.

8-8-8-8-8

.

That slightly disastrous meeting had led to further conversations between Bulma and her parents, until they had finally settled on a truce, on the day of Tights’ wedding.

However… it was not until after they had gotten engaged that Vegeta had asked her to think about going back to Capsule Corp.

He had known, before she herself had realized it, that she could never truly turn her back on CC, because she would wish to honor her father’s legacy and hard work.

He never pushed, only planted the idea in her head… but as a testament to how well he knew her, Bulma realized that he was right… she _did_ want to eventually lead CC, but the problem she had before was that if she had just taken over the company at 21, then she would not have been happy because it wouldn’t have been her choice to do so.

She also knew that without any corporate experience, in spite of her genius, she would have surely run the company into the ground. She would not have had the chance to learn and grow, to develop strategies that could help her manage a corporation. Now that she had learned the ways of steering an organization from Ouji, she could seriously consider eventually heading their family’s company.

Vegeta truly did know her better than she knew herself.

Her father had been ecstatic when she called him to talk about Capsule Corp., but she had insisted that she first be assigned a lower executive position, until she felt confident in fully taking on the responsibilities of leading the company.

She left Ouji Ent. shortly before she married Vegeta. He had been somber at having her leave the company, but he had been happy for her, knowing that her moving to CC was the start of yet another chapter in their lives. She joined CC as the Chief of Research and Development six months after their wedding.

Bulma’s life was going exactly the way she wanted it to, perhaps even better.

She turned into their large garage, grinning as she saw her husband already there, pulling open the back of his SUV, that she saw was full of groceries.

“Hey babe!” she greeted, carefully parking beside him.

He gave her an answering smirk, moving to meet her at the driver’s side, extending a hand to her. She smiled gratefully as she took his hand, easily hopping off the large vehicle with his help.

They walked to the back of his car, and Bulma snickered at the number of bags she saw.

“What’s all this?” she asked amusedly, eyeing the grocery bags he was unloading.

“Food.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ok, smartass. What kinds?”

He smirked. “Meat, some vegetables. A bunch of your Cheetos and coffee. I sent Kakarot out to buy all this.”

After Goku graduated, Vegeta had hired him as one of Ouji Ent’s purchasers.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not in his job description,” she grinned, pulling out some of the lighter bags to help her gluttonous husband take the food into the house.

“I am also quite sure he doesn’t mind, after he received that large bonus that I approved.”

Bulma’s smile widened. “Oh come on. You realize that the whole thing would probably be spent on his and Chichi’s wedding next month?”

He scoffed. “I am already paying for the wedding cake.”

“And that was really nice of you.”

“What can I say… you made me do it,” he groused as he heaved the last of the bags into his arms, heading for the door with Bulma in tow.

Suddenly he grinned, teeth gleaming with his lascivious smile. “I seem to remember that you had been… _extremely persuasive_ that night.”

Bulma flushed, gaping as she stared at him incredulously.

“I- I- I _didn’t-”_ she sputtered.

 “That was an extra nice touch, the thing you did with the-”

“ _Vegeta_!”

Vegeta threw his head back, laughing raucously in the face of her distress as he began walking towards the house.

Bulma ran after him, face red as a tomato.

“I did _not_ do that to _persuade_ you, you ass-”

“Whatever you say, woman,” he said as he pushed the door open and let them both inside the house.

The mansion was deserted, save for them and the security guards at the gates. All their housekeepers have gone home, as was usual for them every Friday evening. Their household help all had the weekends off, since Vegeta and Bulma preferred to have the entire house to themselves during the weekends.

It was also Vegeta’s chance to have Bulma cook his meals, as for some reason she really could not fathom, he absolutely loved her cooking.

It still puzzled her to high heavens, as she _knew_ that her cooking was mediocre, at best. Nobody other than Vegeta seemed to like it.

She pouted as they went into the kitchen, where Vegeta dropped their bags onto the counter, teasingly placing a kiss on her cheek before turning from her to hunt down the TV remote. She smiled at his back, then started placing their food into the cupboards and the fridge.

It was a comically simple routine, but it was all part of Bulma’s domestic dreams come to life.

She shook her head at the sight of the cans of his Hetap energy drink, arranging them into the fridge as she heard the television blare to life in the living room.

“Bulma,” Vegeta called as he reentered the kitchen. “I almost forgot, Raditz said thanks for those CC shoes you gave Laura. Apparently, the kid loves them and refuses to take them off.”

“Oh that’s great!” she said brightly. “Launch told me that their little girl doesn’t like wearing shoes. I guess the new prototype soles we produced were comfy enough that Laura actually likes them. I’m gonna tell Marketing to complete their market research so we can mass-produce the shoes.”

She felt his thick, well-muscled arms snake around her waist from behind as she finished arranging the last of the groceries into the cabinets.

She lifted her hands up to grasp his as he rested his hands across her stomach, and their fingers linked together as she leaned back, turning her head slightly so she can gaze at him while he lowered his lips to kiss the side of her neck.

She felt the warmth of his lips contrast with the coolness of the golden chain around her throat as he moved up, leaving small nips and licks until she giggled, and he smiled as he moved so her lips could gently meet his.

She stayed in his arms, luxuriating in his heat, silently feeling him for a few minutes before she took a deep breath.

He felt her inhale, and he asked, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem a bit… anxious. Did anything happen at work?”

She smiled, raising a hand to stroke her crescent necklace, silently asking it for support.

“Nothing bad, but I did discover something very important today,” she whispered.

He pulled back, turning her so she faced him, before he wrapped her in his arms again, their hands resting on each other’s waists.

“What? Do you need help?”

“Well…” she started, smiling softly at him. “Not right now… but I will probably get a lot needier in the next few months.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, before she lifted a hand, taking one of his…

And very gently, very slowly, laying it across her abdomen.

His eyes widened, hope and disbelief brightening his obsidian orbs as he stuttered at the insinuation.

“Bulma?” he breathed. “Are you saying…”

“I’ve been feeling a bit strange, so I did a test at work and discovered that… I’m six weeks along, Vegeta.”

“You’re… Bulma, you’re-”

“Yes!”

“You’re serious?” he asked, face flushing as he watched her smile, tears of joy filling the corners of her eyes.

She nodded. “We’re gonna be parents, Vegeta!”

“Bulma!” he exclaimed, his voice catching slightly as he said her name.

He pulled her close, lifting her off her feet in his excitement, and she laughed, holding him around his neck as he held her tight, his face buried into the crook of her neck.

He let her go, gently dropping her to her feet, as he began frantically asking if she felt ok, if there was anything she needed…

“Do you want me to call the housekeepers in? Do you want to sit down and let me make dinner? Do you want me to buy the _actual moon_ for you?” he asked, and Bulma wasn’t quite sure anymore if he was kidding or actually serious.

“I’ve got my own moon around my neck, thank you very much,” she laughed. “And no… I can still make dinner.”

“Bulma, _anything_ you want, let me know immediately,” he said, a huge grin splitting his face as he still held her loosely, unable to let her go.

“l will.”

“You have no idea, I can’t even tell you how happy you’ve made me,” he said.

She laughed as she watched him, his eyes glued to her stomach as he stared in wonder, no doubt already imagining the child that was growing within her right at that moment.

“I love you, Vegeta,” she whispered, and his sharp eyes flew to hers as his hands tightened their grip around her waist.

He leaned down, his soft breaths fanning over her cheeks as he lowered his lips to hers, giving her a heartfelt kiss that breathed life into her every cell, sustaining her heart, letting her feel how much he treasured her and everything they shared together.

He suddenly lifted her up, and not breaking their kiss, began walking out of the kitchen with her in his embrace.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he deftly found his way into their bedroom, and he laid her down on the very center of their plush king-sized bed.

He held himself over her, his weight carefully on his hands and knees that surrounded her like a protective cage.

Her heart was in her throat as she stared at him, taking in every line and curve of his gorgeous face, as he lifted his left hand, stroking her cheek.

Her eyes strayed momentarily to the scars adorning his arm: the tiny one from their first night together, and the longer, harsher one from his accident.

Two scars that somehow brought them together, reminding her even more of the things they had endured to finally find their way to each other.

They had won.

“I love you, Bulma,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her again, and she felt him pour his entire heart and soul into the beautifully intimate contact as his fingers traveled down to undo the buttons on her blouse.

She pulled away from his kiss with a gasp. “What about dinner?” she asked, half-jokingly.

“That can wait,” he smirked, pulling her blouse open and eagerly cupping her soft breasts, making her moan.

As she surrendered once more to his touch, let him ravish her with his love, she couldn’t help but agree.

This overwhelming feeling of joy, that she needed to express to him in the deepest way possible, cannot wait.

Dinner could, until _much_ later.

After all, they had plenty of time.

Together, they had forever.

 

8-8-8-8-8

.

_The end._


End file.
